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DISCOURSE 



OS THE 



LIFE, CHARACTER, AND SERVICES 



or 



DANIEL DRAKE, M. D 



DELIVERED, BY REQUEST, 



BEFORE THE FACULTY AND MEDICAL STUDENTS OF^THE 
UNIVERSITY OF LOUISVILLE, JANUARY 87, 1853. 



BY S. D. GROSS, M. D. 



LOUISVILLE 









PRINTED AT THE OFFICE OF THE LOUISVILLE JOURNAL. 

1853. 



^\ 



^ 



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a« 



DISCOURSE. 



On the 5th of Novemher, 1852, a telegraphic dispatch, 
dated at Cincinnati at 3 o'clock in the afternoon, and re- 
ceived in this city three hours afterwards, announced to 
us that our profession and our country were about to be de- 
prived of a great and good man. It was short but unmis- 
takable, full of significance and foreboding. " Dr. Drake 
is supposed to be dying." Another message, received 
the next morning at 10 o'clock, only served to confirm the 
sad and melancholy intelligence of the preceding even- 
ing. News, so entirely unexpected, fell with stunning ef- 
fect upon the heart and intellect of the friends of the de- 
parted physician in this community, so long the theatre of 
his acti\e and useful labors. It is true, it had been ru- 
mored that he was unwell, somewhat indisposed, but no 
one had thought him seriously ill, much less despaired of 
his life. Hence, when the intelligence of his demise 
reached us, it took every one by surprise. His intimate 
friends and acquaintances, those who knew and loved 
him best, had never permitted themselves to think of him 
in such a connexion ; they had hoped and prayed that he 
might have length of days, and that he might be spared, 



long enough at least, to complete the great work which 
had so long and so intensely occupied his mind, and which 
now only waited, as it were, to receive the last finishing 
touches of his pen. They had hoped that God would 
vouchsafe him health and life that he might achieve the 
great and now only remaining object of his ambition, and 
that he might thus be permitted to hand to his professional 
brethren, for their benefit, and the benefit of his race, the 
record of his acts, and the bond of his devotion to the great 
and noble pursuit which had so long occupied his thoughts 
and affections, and engaged the best energies of his mind 
and body. 

Only a fortnight before they had seen him in their very 
midst, the " observed of all observers, " almost the "gay- 
est of the gay. " At the meeting in this city, on the 2 1st 
of October, of the Kentucky State Medical Society, 
whose honored guest he was, he looked so well that every 
one was struck with the circumstance; and at the anni- 
versary supper, two evenings afterwards, he responded, 
in terms of glowing eloquence, to a complimentary toast. 
On the following morning, with steps that were never 
more light, and spirits that were never more buoyant, he 
called upon a number of his friends, as well as upon his 
former colleagues in this University, prior to the depart- 
ure of the Cincinnati packet, which was to convey him, 
as it proved, for the last time, upon the bosom of the Ohio. 
Little did we think, as we shook hands, that we had met 
together for the last time, and that the separation which 
was about to take place was to be forever. How little 
does man know the future, how incompetent is he to lift 
the veil which screens him from his destiny! It was only 
a few hours before his departure that he paid his respects 
to one of his former colleagues, who still lingers among 
us, bowed down by the frosts and labors of more than 
eighty winters. While sitting with him, and rapidly talk- 



ing over the topics of the day, he was painfully impressed 
with the changes which time and disease had wrought 
upon him since their last interview, and on returning, soon 
after, to his lodgings, he could not refrain from mentioning 
the circumstance to a female friend, and expressing his con- 
viction that he should never again behold him. Strange 
prophecy ! The one still lives, clinging like an ancient and 
venerable ivy to the tree of time, while the other, many 
years his junior, lies cold and silent in the winding-sheet 
of death. 

The wanderer is not long in performing his journey. 
A few hours are sufficient to restore him to his home and 
to the bosom of his children and grand-children, who, as 
they see his familiar face, eluster around him, welcom- 
ing him with their smiles and their affection. He has 
finished his last journey on earth ; he has gazed for 
the last time upon the beautiful scenery of his beloved 
Ohio, enhanced a thousand fold by the Great Portrait 
Painter and Chemist of Nature. Never did the foliage of 
the forest, adorned and diversified by the endless and ever- 
changing tints of autumn, present itself in so attractive 
and resplendent a form. As he looked upon it, his mind 
involuntarily recurred to the period of his childhood, 
when, surrounded by his parents, his brothers and sisters, 
he dwelt in the wilds of Kentucky, with nothing: but 
trees, and birds, and squirrels, and wild-flowers, for his 
playmates and companions. The scene revived in him the 
recollection of his early struggles, his hopes, and aspira- 
tions, and, perhaps, admonished him, as he silently con- 
nected the present with the past, that the " sear and yel- 
low leaf of autumn" is a fit emblem of man's mortality, 
and of the evanescent, transitory character of his earthly 
existence. 

The tolling of the bell, that solemn messenger of God, 
awakens the great physician from the revery into which 



6 



he has lapsed, now that the first greetings of the happy 
family group are over, and with a light heart he goes forth 
to offer up, for the last time, his orisons at the altar of his 
Savior. His last Sabbath, but one, upon the earth is 
passed, and the week, thus auspiciously begun, is spent, at 
least in part, in the midst of his pupils, at the bed-side of 
the sick poor at the Hospital, and in his private study, 
distilling from the alembic of his brain thoughts and 
words of mighty import to his professional brethren. 
His fellow citizens are assembled to do honor to the mem- 
ory of America's " Great Secretary;" and, inspired by the 
occasion, at once solemn and impressive, he makes his 
last public speech, calling the attention of the young men 
around him to Daniel Webster's dying declaration of the 
inestimable value of the christian religion, and of man's 
utter dependance upon Divine Mercy. " Who, " he re- 
marked " shall say that the simple utterance of the 
departed statesman — 'Thy rod, Thy rod — Thy staff, Thy 
staff, they comfort me' — do not constitute the greatest 
act of that life of great acts?" 

His couch thatjnight knows no repose; the hand of disease 
is laid heavily upon his brow, and to-morrow's sun finds 
him weary and unrefreshed. Thus a few days are passed, 
the enemy now receding, and now advancing, until, at 
length, it is but too evident to both patient and friends'that 
the hour of convalescence, if it is ever to come, is far off. 
Gradually but steadily the destroyer progresses in his work, 
making sure and fearful inroads upon the system; great 
debility ensues; the brain is no longer capable of shed- 
ding its wonted light ; thought flows sluggishly and re- 
luctantly ; speech has lost its facility of utterance; and 
the sufferer is oppressed by a sense of annihilation, inde- 
scribable and overwhelming, and attended with the most 
terrible despondency. H still sees and talks, but is hard- 
ly able to think or feel ! Rousing himself from his leth- 



argy, he beckons to one near and dear to hira, and speaks 
to him concerning the unfinished condition of his great 
work, saying that his only ambition was to complete it, 
and expressing a hope that God might spare him for that 
end. Again he relapses into a state of torpor ; his agony 
is so intense that he prays to be released ; he has no lon- 
ger any desire to live ; all schemes of ambition, even the 
wish to finish his work, have passed from his mind ; his 
soul is chastened and purified; God has taught him the 
folly of all earthly hopes, and the vanity of all human ex- 
pectations. While the mind and body are thus oppressed 
and palsied, unstrung and tortured, the soul is buoyed up 
with hope and joy, and clings with pertinacious tenacity 
to its Savior. "Every nerve is strung with the most in- 
tense desire to hold Him fast. " 

All of a sudden the sufferer expresses himself better ; he 
experiences "temporary relief;" an anodyne draught is ad- 
ministered, and presently he falls into a sleep so sweet and 
natural that the watchers think of approaching convales- 
cence. Vain and delusive hope! The sleep so "sweet and 
natural" is the sleep of death; life is flickeringin its socket, 
and just before it is extinguished the eyes once more open 
and beam with an unearthly radiance, as the sun some- 
times after a cloudy day suddenlybursts through the mist, 
and illumines for an instant the horizon before he finally 
sinks into the dark shades of night. The spirit had fled so 
gently and so softly that the precise moment of its depar- 
ture was hardly perceptible. The silver cord was loosed, 
the golden bowl was broken, the duty of the watchers 
and the physicians was over, and the mourners went about 
the streets. 

The news of the melancholy event spread with the 
lightning's speed. Every where in the profession, as well 
as in the nation at large, it excited the most lively emo- 
tions of sorrow. The Medical Schools of Cincinnati and 
the University of Louisville *vispended their lectures, 



8 



and passed resolutions, expressive of their regret and of 
their great loss, as well asoi their sympathy with the fam- 
ily of the deceased. Numerous medical societies in the 
South-west also held meetings, and gave vent to their 
feelings in appropriate resolutions. The whole profes- 
sion, in fact, felt that it had lost one of its best and great- 
est men. 

The disease which deprived him of his life, and which 
struck from the firmament of our profession one of its 
brightest ornaments, was congestion of the brain, or, per- 
haps, as I am inclined to think from the character of the 
symptoms, arachnitis. He had long dreaded the effects of 
this malady, the first seizure of which he experienced while 
a professor at Lexington in 1825, and which came very 
nigh proving fatal to him. Nearly six weeks elapsed before 
his health was sufficiently re-established to enable him to 
resume his duties in the University. He was ever after- 
wards subject to occasional attacks of the disease, but 
they were generally mild, and usually passed off in a few 
days under the influence of simple remedies. 

The immediate cause of his last illness was over exer- 
tion of the brain, produced by the labors and excitement 
consequent upon the opening of the session of the Medical 
College of Ohio. His toils, always excessive, were un- 
ceasing ; his vigilance never slumbered; aware that much 
of the prosperity of the school would necessarily depend 
upon his personal exertion, he spared no effort to insure 
its success, to advance its dignity, and to promote its 
interests. He knew that the eyes of the profession of the 
whole South-west were upon him, and that his character 
as the re-builder of the Medical College of Ohio, of which 
he had been the founder more than thirty years ago, 
was at stake. His nervous system was strung to the 
utmost, and it was while thus occupied that he was seized 
with the malady which was destined to destroy him. 

His illness was of short duration ; death called him 



hence before disease had worn out his frame, or age 
dimmed his intellectual powers. The week before his 
final seizure he lectured and wrote with his accustomed 
energy and ability. Like a green leaf in autumn, loosened 
by the frost, and shaken by the wind, he fell prematurely 
from the tree of life, which he might, according to man's 
feeble judgment, have yet adorned for many years. At 
the time of his death he had just completed his sixty- 
seventh year. 

His funeral, delayed by the unexpected and unavoida- 
ble detention of his only son, Charles D. Drake, Esq., of 
St. Louis, took place on Wednesday afternoon, November 
J Oth, and was attended by his late colleagues and pupils, 
by the Faculties and pupils of the other Cincinnati schools 
of medicine, and by an immense concourse of citizens. 
The procession was long and solemn, and the grief which 
was depicted upon every countenance afforded a striking 
demonstration of the esteem and affection of the people 
among whom he had lived upwards of half a century, and 
who knew so well how to appreciate his many virtues. 
The profession felt that they had lest their brightest orna- 
ment, and the citizens of Cincinnati that they had been 
deprived of one of their conscript fathers. The body 
was placed in a vault in the Episcopal burving-ground. 
Next day, attended only by his family and a few very inti- 
mate friends, it was removed to Spring Grove Cemetery, 
and deposited, in fulfilment of his own wishes, by the side 
of the remains of her, who, for eighteen years, had been 
the worthy sharer of his joys and his sorrows, and whose 
memory he romantically cherished during a period of up- 
wards of a quarter of a century. 

Dr. Drake was born at Plainfield, a small village in 
Essex county, New Jersey, October 20th, 1785. Here 
he spent the first two years and a half of his life. At the 
expiration of this time, his father emigrated to Kentucky, 
then only nine years older than his son, and settled at 

2 



10 



Mays Lick, twelve miles south-west of Maysville, and 
fifty three miles from Lexington. Mays Lick was a colony 
of East-Jersey people, with a few stragglers from Virginia 
and Maryland ; and consisted, at the period referred to, of 
fifty-two persons, all poor, and illiterate. Their occupa- 
tion was clearing the forest and cultivating the soil. 

The log cabin of that day, the residence of the Drake 
family, constituted an interesting feature of the landscape. 
As the name implies, it was built of logs, generally un* 
hewn, with a puncheon floor below, and a clap-board 
floor above, a small square window without glass, a chim- 
ney of " cats and clay, " and a coarse roof. It con- 
sisted generally of one apartment, which served as a sit- 
ting-room, dormitory and kitchen. 

The ancestors of Dr. Drake were poor, illiterate, and 
unknown to fame ; but they possessed the great merit of 
being industrious, honest, temperate and pious. To 
spring from such ancestors, is, as he justly observes, high 
descent in the sight of Heaven, if not in the estimation of 
man. Both his grand-fathers lived in the very midst of 
the battle-scenes of the revolution ; one of them, Shotwell, 
was a member of the Society of Friends, and was, of 
course, a non-combatant, while the other, who had no 
such scruples, was frequently engaged in the partizan 
warfare of his native State. * The father of Dr. Drake 
died at Cincinnati in 1832, and the mother in 1831 ; both 
at an advanced age. 

It was at Mays Lick, amidst the people whom I have 
briefly described, that young Drake spent the first fifteen 
years of his life, performing such labors as the exigencies 
of his family demanded. In the winter months, generally 
from November until March, he was sent to school, dis- 
tant, usually about two miles from his father's cabin, while 

* Dr. Drake's Reminiscential Letters to his Children. These Let- 
ters, a copy of which was kindly put into my hands by the family of the 
deceased, will be particularly referred to hereafter. 



11 



during the remainder of the year lie worked upon the farm, 
attending to the cattle, tilling the soil, and clearing the 
forest, an occupation in which he always took great de- 
light. 

This kind of life, rude as it was, and uncongenial as it 
must have heen to his taste was not without, its advan- 
tages. It eminently fitted him for the observation of 
nature, so necessary to a physician. Nothing escaped 
his eye. Nature was spread out before him in all her diver- 
sified forms, and he loved to contemplate her in the majes- 
tic forest, in the mighty stream, now placid and now foaming 
with anger, in the green fields, in the flowers which adorn 
the valley and the hill, in the clouds, in the lightning and 
thunder, in the snow and the frost, in the tempest and the 
hurricane. 

It had another effect. While it had the disadvantage 
of preventing him from pursuing a steady course of liter- 
ary culture, and fitting him for the early practice of med- 
icine, it excited in him habits of industry and attention to 
business, teaching him patience and self-reliance, and giv- 
ing him an insight into many matters, to which the city- 
trained youth is a stranger. 

Finally, the physical labor which he underwent there 
served to impart health and vigor to his constitution, and 
thereby contributed to produce that power of endurance 
which he possessed in a degree superior to that of almost 
every other man I have ever known. 

But the settlement of Mays Lick was not without its 
charms and enjoyments. To the young and imaginative 
mind of Drake every little spot in the landscape was in- 
vested with peculiar beauty and interest. What to an or- 
dinary observer was barren and unattractive was to him 
a source of never-failing gratification. In the spring and 
summer the surface of the earth was carpeted with the rich- 
est verdure, and embellished with myriads of wild-flowers, 
which, while they rendered the air redolent with fragrance, 
delighted the eye by their innumerable variety. The trees, 



12 



those mighty denizens of the forest, were clothed in their 
most majestic garb, adding beauty and grandeur to the 
scene, enlivened by the music of birds, which thronged the 
woods, and constituted, along with the merry and frolic- 
some squirrel, the familiar companions of the early settler. 
11 Their notes made symphony with the winds, as they 
played upon the green leaves, and awakened melody as 
when the rays of the sun fell upon the harp of Memnon, 
but more real, and better for the young heart. " * 

The scholastic advantages of young Drake, during his 
residence at Mays Lick, were, as I have already hinted, 
very limited. The teachers of the place were itin- 
erants, of the most ordinary description, whose function 
was to teach spelling, reading, writing, and cyphering, as 
far as the rule of three, beyond which few of them were 
able to go. The fashion in those days was for the whole 
school to learn and say their lessons aloud ; a practice 
commended by Dr. Drake in after-life, as a good exercise 
of the voice, and as a means of improving the lungs, and 
disciplining the mind for study in the midst of noise and 
confusion. 

His first teacher was a man from the " Eastern 
Shore " of Maryland, an ample exponent of the state 
of society in that benighted region. The school house 
in which he was educated was fifteen by twenty feet 
in its dimensions, and one story high, with a wooden 
chimney, a puncheon floor, and a door with a latch and 
string. In the winter, light was admitted through oiled 
paper, by long openings between the logs. Glass was 
not to be obtained. The ordinary fee for tuition was fif- 
teen shillings a quarter. 

As to the classics, he knew nothing of them until after 
he began to study medicine ; for the reason, first, that 
there were no teachers in his neighborhood competent to 

*Reminiscential Letters. 



13 



impart instruction in them, and, secondly, that he was too 
poor to go from home. His father stipulated with his 
professional preceptor that he should be sent to school 
for six months to learn Latin ; but by some great absurd- 
ity, as he observes, this was not done until he had studied 
for eighteen months that which, tor the want of Latin, he 
could not comprehend. He never, I believe, studied the 
Greek language. In after life he acquired some know- 
ledge of the French. 

His father's library was not, as might be supposed, either 
large or diversified. It was, more properly speaking, select. 
It consisted of a family Bible, Rippon's Hymns, Watts' 
Hymns for children, the Pilgrim's Progress, an old romance 
of the days ot Knight Errantry, primers, with a plate rep- 
resenting John Rogers at the stake, spelling books, an 
arithmetic, and an almanac for the new year. As he grew 
up he met with Guthrie's Grammar of Geography, Entick's 
Dictionary, Scott's Lessons, yEsops Fables, the Life of 
Franklin, and Lord Chesterfield's Letters to his son, the 
latter of which, especially, he greatly prized. A news- 
paper at that day was a rarity. The first one ever pub- 
lished in Kentucky was issued at Lexington in 1787, the 
year before the emigration of the Drake family. It was 
called the Kentucky Gazette, and was edited by John 
Bradford. Nearly ten years afterwards another, the Pal- 
ladium, was established at Washington, four miles off, and 
of this a number fell occasionally into the boy's hands, 
always affording him much gratification. 

Works of fiction he seldom read, even in after life; first, 
because he had not the time, and, secondly, because they 
always raised in him emotions so powerful that he was 
obliged, in a great degree, to avoid them. 

During his sojourn under his father's roof, he was a 
close observer of the people around him, residents as well 
as emigrants, the latter of whom were in the habit of 
passing in great numbers through the settlement. He 



14 



studied their manners and habits, observed their preju- 
dices, noticed and compared their opinions, and thus ac- 
quired important knowledge of human nature. Books 
and book-learning alone do not serve to make up a man's 
education ; he must mingle with the world, and endeavor 
to derive from its intercourse those lessons of wisdom 
and practical tact which are to regulate his conduct and 
beautify his life. 

Thus, it will be seen that his alma mater was the for- 
est: his teacher, nature ; his class-mates, birds, and squir- 
rels, and wild flowers. Until the commencement of his 
sixteenth year, when he left home to study medicine, 
he had never been beyond the confines of the settlement 
at Mays Lick, and it was not until his twentieth year, 
when he went to Philadelphia to attend lectures, that he 
saw a large city. The " Queen of the West, " as Cin- 
cinnati has been since styled, was then a mere hamlet, 
with hardly a few thousand inhabitants. Kentucky, at 
that early day, had but one University, and although 
it was scarcely fifty miles distant from his doors, his 
father was too poor to send him thither. 

It was to this spot, after the lapse of nearly half a cen- 
tury, that the boy, now in the evening of his full and per- 
fect manhood, turns his longing eye, anxious once more 
to behold the home of his early childhood. He stands 
before the lone and primitive cabin of his father, in which 
used to dwell all that were near and dear to him ; the 
latch-string is off the door; the hearth no longer emits 
its accustomed light and heat ; w T eeds and briers grow 
around and obstruct the entrance ; no familiar voices are 
heard to greet and welcome the stranger; all is still and 
silent as the grave in the God's acre close by. The birds 
no longer salute him with their merry music ; the squirrel, 
whose gambols he was wont to watch with such peculiar 
fondness when a boy, is no longer there ; even the tall 
and weather-beaten elm no longer greets him with his 



ir> 



presence. All around is silence and desolation. Upon 
the "door cheeks" of the cabin he discovers the ir.itials of 
his own name, which he had inscribed there with his rude 
pen-knife fifty years before, silent witnesses of the past, 
reluctant to be effaced by time. As he looked around, and 
surveyed the changes which half a century had wrought in 
the landscape before him, a feeling of awe and melancholy, 
unutterable and indescribable, seized his soul, and the sage 
of three score years, the medical philosopher, and the ac- 
knowledged head of his profession in the Great Valley of the 
Mississippi, was instantly transmuted into the boy of fifteen. 
Every feeling was unmanned, and tears, warm and burning, 
gushed from the fountains of his soul. The whole scene of 
his childhood was vividly before him; the manly form of his 
father, the meek and gentle features of his mother, the light 
and sportive figures of his brothers and sisters, stood forth 
in bold relief, and painfully reminded him of the vanity and 
instability of all earthly things. Of the whole family group, 
eight in number, which was wont to assemble around 
the bright and burning hearth, only one, beside himself, 
remained to visit that tenantless and desolate friend of 
his childhood. 

Young Drake was early destined for the medical pro- 
fession. His father and Dr. Goforth, who afterwards be- 
came his preceptor, emigrated together from New Jersey 
to the West, and formed a great intimacy on their voyage 
down the Ohio. Although his father thought him on 
many points a very weak man, yet he believed him to be a 
great physician, and already, when Daniel was only five 
years old, he had promised him as a student. It was in 
consequence of this early pledge, that the son often went 
by the soubriquet of "Dr. Drake," long before he dream- 
ed of what medicine was. Subsequently, however, it was 
determined that Daniel should remain at home, and study 
medicine with his cousin, Dr. John Drake, a young man 
of extraordinary promise, superior genius, and great moral 



16 



purity. Just, however, as the period was approaching 
for the consummation of his plans, young Drake died, to 
the great disappointment of Daniel, who always regarded 
the event as a real misfortune, inasmuch as it deprived him 
not only of a good preceptor, but of the advantage of 
studying at home, and thus saving the expense of a resi- 
dence at Cincinnati. His father, however, courageously 
persevered in his cherished purpose, although he himself 
would have preferred to learn the trade of a saddler, for 
which, in fact, he had already selected a master at Lex- 
ington, whither some of his cornfield companions had 
preceded him. 

In the autumn of 1800, and at the close of his fifteenth 
year, he was sent to Cincinnati, and entered the office of 
Dr. Goforth, of that city, as a private pupil. The arrange- 
ment was that he should live in his preceptor's family, and 
that he should remain with him iour years, at the end of 
which he was to be transmuted into a doctor. It was also 
agreed between the parties that he should be sent to 
school two quarters, that he might learn the Latin lan- 
guage, which, up to that time, he had, as already stated, 
wholly neglected. For his services and board, the pre- 
ceptor was to receive $400; a tolerably large sum, consid- 
ering the limited resources of his father. 

During his pupilage, young Drake performed, with 
alacrity and fidelity, all the various duties which, at that 
early period of the West, usually devolved on medical 
students. His business was not only to study his precep- 
tor's books, but to compound his prescriptions, to attend 
to the shop or office, and, as he advanced in knowledge, 
to assist in practice. The first task assigned him was to 
read Quincy's Dispensatory and grind quicksilver into 
mercurial ointment; the latter of which, as he quaintly re- 
marks,* he found, from previous practice on a Kentucky 

* Dr. Drake's Discourses before the Cincinnati Medical Library A,- 
sociation, p. 56, 1852. 



17 



hand-mill, much the easier of the two. Subsequently, 
and by degrees, he studied Cheselden on the Bones and 
Tnnes on the Muscles, Boerhaave and Van Swieten's Com- 
mentaries, Chaptal's Chemistry, Cullen's Materia Medica, 
and Haller's Physiology. These works constituted, at 
that time, the text-books of medical students, and the 
custom with many was to commit to memory the greater 
portion of their contents. 

The term of his pupilage having expired, young Drake 
underwent the ordeal of an examination, and this being 
found satisfactory, his preceptor honored him with an 
autograph diploma, setting forth his attainments in the 
various branches of the profession, and subscribing it as 
Surgeon-General of the First Division of Ohio Militia. 
Under the sanction of this diploma, which he always 
greatly valued as a memorial of the olden time, and which 
was the first document of the kind ever granted in the 
interior valley of North America, Dr. Drake practised 
medicine for the next eleven years, when it was corrobo- 
rated by another from the University of Pennsylvania. 

In the spring of 1S04, he formed a partnership with his 
preceptor, and in the autumn of 1805 he went to Phila- 
delphia to attend his first course of lectures under the 
celebrated teachers, Rush, Wistar, Barton, Physick, and 
Woodhouse. At the close of the session he returned to 
the West. A journey, at that period, from Cincinnati to 
Philadelphia, usually occupied many days, often from 
twenty-five to thirty, and was generally performed on 
horse-back. As the roads were exceedingly rough, and 
the country was without bridges, it was always attended 
with great fatigue, and, sometimes, even with danger. 
Now the journey may be performed in a few days, the 
traveler lounging the while upon velvet cushions, and 
sleeping nearly as well as in his own bed. 

Of his first preceptor, Dr. Drake always retained a 
lively and grateful recollection. In his "Discourses," 

3 



delivered, in 1852, before the Cincinnati Medical Library 
Association, he gives a short but graphic account of him, 
from which it appears that he was a native of New York, 
that he emigrated early in life to Kentucky, and that he 
afterwards settled at Cincinnati, where he died in the 
spring of 1817, in the fifty-first year of his age. He was 
a man of the most winning and fascinating manners, was 
very kind and courteous to the poor, possessed fine con- 
versational powers, with an inexhaustible fund of anec- 
dote, was a warm politician, and was the first to practise 
vaccination in the West. Such a preceptor was worthy 
of such a pupil, and such a pupil of such a preceptor. 

After his return from Philadelphia young Drake lived 
a year in Mason county, Kentucky, practising medicine, 
when he went to Cincinnati. Here he opened an office 
and gradually acquired business, but to what extent I am 
unable to say. While thus engaged, he married, in De- 
cember, 1807, Miss Harriet Sisson, a grand-daughter of 
Col. Jared Mansfield, Surveyor-General of the Northwest- 
ern Territory, and afterwards a distinguished Professor 
in the Military Academy at West Point. This lady pos- 
sessed elegant manners, unusual personal beauty, and a 
vigorous understanding. The union was a most conge- 
nial and appreciative one; their attachment, founded upon 
mutual esteem and good deeds, ripened with their years, 
and by degrees assumed almost a romantic character. In 
her counsel and sympathy, Dr. Drake found support and 
consolation in his pecuniary embarrassments, and in many 
of the other trials of his varied and checkered life. The 
issue of this union was three children, a son and two 
daughters; all of whom survive to inherit their parent's 
good name, and to transmit it unimpaired to their children. 
Mrs. Drake died in September, 1825. 

He attended his second course of lectures in the Univer- 
sity of Pennsylvania, in 1815, and was graduated at the 
end of the session, with the compliment from a member 



19 



of the faculty of being a young man of great professonal 
promise ! It will be seen hereafter that he was then al- 
ready an author, having published, the preceding autumn, 
his celebrated "Picture of Cincinnati." 

A little over a year after he received his medical degree, 
Dr. Drake was appointed to the Professorship of Materia 
Medica in the Medical Department of Transylvania Uni- 
versity at Lexington, and in the following autumn entered 
upon the discharge of the duties of his Chair. His col- 
leagues were Dr. Benjamin W. Dudley, afterwards so 
distinguished as a teacher and a surgeon, Dr. William H. 
Richardson, Dr. James Blythe, and Dr. James Overton, 
now of Nashville, Tenn. The number of students in 
attendance was twenty, of whom one, at the end of the 
session, received the honors of the doctorate. Dr. Drake, 
having completed his course, returned to Cincinnati to re- 
sume his practice, and the school was soon after suspended. 

In 1819, Dr. Drake founded, at Cincinnati, the Medical 
College of Ohio, and immediately afterwards organized a 
Faculty, he himself taking the Chair of Medicine. A 
course of lectures was delivered to a small class of stu- 
dents, but misunderstandings soon sprung up, and Dr. 
Drake was expelled from the school by two of his col- 
leagues, he himself being the presiding officer on the 
occasion. 

Foiled in his attempt to build up a Medical Institution 
at home, he was induced, in the autumn of 1823, to re- 
enter Transylvania University, as an incumbent of the 
Chair which he had vacated six years before. He dis- 
charged the duties of this department with rare ability 
for two years; when, upon the resignation of Dr. Brown, 
he was transferred to the Professorship of Medicine, 
which he occupied until 1827, when he finally retired to 
Cincinnati; the number of pupils, in the meantime, hav- 
ing declined from 282 to 190.* 

* Dr. Yandell's Introductory Lecture for 1852. 



20 



While quietly pursuing his practice, and editing the 
journal which he had established only a few years before, 
Dr. Drake was called, in 1830, to the Professorship of 
Medicine in the Jefferson College of Philadelphia ; an in- 
stitution founded only five years previously, and now, 
after the lapse of a quarter of a century, the first school, 
in the number of its pupils, on the Continent. Among 
his colleagues were two gentlemen whose reputation, then 
in an ingravescent state, became finally, like his own, co- 
extensive with the American Union. I allude to the late 
Dr. George McClellan and the late Dr. Eberle, the one an 
ingenious and adroit surgeon, the other an able and accom- 
plished physician. Both were excellent teachers of their 
respective departments, and both, but especially the latter, 
erudite and successful authors. It is no disparagement 
to these gentlemen to declare that the backwoodsman not 
only acquitted himself with great credit, but that, long 
before the close of the session, he was the most popular 
professor in the institution. His prelections, I well recol- 
lect, created quite a furor among the physicians of the 
city, as well as among the pupils in the University of 
Pennsylvania, not a few of whom wandered off, as the 
hour of their delivery approached, to her young, and then 
obscure, rival. Eloquence such as his, ready and off-hand, 
had not fallen from the lips of any teacher since the days 
of Rush ; his manner, too, had something about it most 
winning and attractive ; it was full of force, energy, and 
expression, and could not fail, of itself, to rivet the atten- 
tion of the dullest intellect, while it was sure to captivate 
and charm the refined and cultivated. His success was 
complete ; backwoodsism had triumphed, and henceforth 
medical men talked of Western teachers with more re- 
spect. 

Had Dr. Drake remained in the Jefferson School no one 
can doubt that the brilliant success which has since await- 
ed it would have been attained years before. With such 



21 



colleagues as Eberle and McClellan, it would have rapidly 
risen into notice, and soon taken rank with the proudest 
institutions of the kind in the country. But such was not 
his wish ; he had other objects in view, and no sooner had 
the session terminated than he returned to Cincinnati. 
Previously, however, to doing this he organized a Medical 
Faculty in connection with the Miami University at Oxford, 
Ohio. But the scheme, which embraced two of his late 
Philadelphia colleagues, was not successful, and was final- 
ly abandoned before the commencement of the proposed 
lecture-term the ensuing autumn. 

The Medical Department of the Miami University was 
evidently intended as a rival of the Medical College of 
Ohio, the fortunes of which had long been on the wane. 
The friends of the latter, perceiving the design, exerted 
themselves to effect an amalgamation of the two Facul- 
ties, and so far succeeded as to draw off a sufficient 
number of Dr. Drake's adherents to accomplish their 
object. To Dr. Drake himself was assigned a subordi- 
nate department, which, at the end of the session, he 
vacated, and once more retired to private life. 

In the summer of 1835, Dr. Drake conceived the pro- 
ject of organizing the medical department of the Cincin- 
nati College. He had, a short time before, been invited 
to the chair of medicine in the Medical College of Ohio, 
which he had founded sixteen years previously ; but be- 
lieving that it would be impracticable, in the then existing 
state of things, to place the institution in a flourishing 
condition, he deemed it his duty to decline the offer, and 
to enter at once upon the business of establishing a new 
school. The first course of lectures was delivered the 
ensuing winter to a class of sixty-six pupils. The faculty 
consisted of seven members, with Dr. Drake at the head 
as professor of medicine. His colleagues were Dr. L. C. 
Rives, the present able and popular professor of obste- 
trics in the Medical College of Ohio ; Dr. Joseph Nash 



M'Dowell, now of the University of Missouri; Dr. John P. 
Harrison, formerly of this city, and, after the downfall of 
the Cincinnati College, a professor in the Medical College 
of Ohio; Dr. James B. Rogers, afterwards professor of 
Chemistry in the University of Pennsylvania; and Dr. 
Horatio G. Jameson, a distinguished Surgeon of Balti- 
more, and at one time a professor in the Washington Col- 
lege of that city. To myself was assigned the Chair of 
Pathological Anatomy, at that period almost the only one 
of the kind in the United States. Most of these gentle- 
men had either belonged to medical Schools, or had been 
private teachers, and had thus already established a reputa- 
tion as successful and popular instructors. Several, on the 
contrary, appeared before their pupils for the first time ; 
but, notwithstanding this, they discharged their respec- 
tive duties not only with credit to themselves, but to the ad- 
miration of their classes. At the close of the session Dr. 
Jameson resigned, and was succeeded by Dr. Willard Par- 
ker, the present justly distinguished Professor of Surgery 
in the College of Physicians and Surgeons of the city of New 
York. 

With such a faculty the school could hardly fail to pros- 
per. It had, however, to contend with one serious disad- 
vantage, namely, the want of an endowment. It was, 
strictly speaking, a private enterprise ; and although the 
citizens of Cincinnati contributed, perhaps not illiberally, 
to its support, yet the chief burden fell upon the four ori- 
ginal projectors, Drake, Rives, McDowell, and myself. 
They found the edifice of the Cincinnati College, erected 
many years before, in a state of decay, without apparatus, 
lecture-rooms, or museum ; they had to go east of the 
mountains for two of their professors, with onerous guar- 
anties ; and they had to encounter no ordinary degree of 
prejudice and actual opposition from the friends of the 
Medical College of Ohio. It is not surprising, therefore, 
that after struggling on, although with annually increas- 



23 



ing classes, and with a spirit of activity and perseverance 
that hardly knew any bounds, it should at length have 
exhausted the patience and even the forbearance of its foun- 
ders. What, however, contributed more, perhaps, than 
any thing else, to its immediate downfall was the resigna- 
tion of Dr. Parker, who, in the summer of 1839, accepted 
the corresponding chair in the College of Physicians and 
Surgeons of the city of New York, an institution which 
he has been so instrumental in elevating, and which he 
still continues to adorn by his talents and his extraordin- 
ary popularity as a teacher and a practitioner. The vaca- 
tion of the surgical chair was soon followed by my own re- 
tirement and by that of my other colleagues, Dr. Drake 
being the last to withdraw. 

During the four years the school was in existence it edu- 
cated nearly four hundred pupils; the last class being nearly 
double that in the rival institution, an evidence at once of 
its popularity, and of the ability and enterprise of its facul- 
ty. The school had cost each of the original projectors 
about four thousand dollars, nearly the amount of the 
emoluments of their respective chairs during its brief but 
brilliant career. 

Dr. Drake had the success of this enterprise much at 
heart, and often expressed regret at its failure ; what the 
result might have been, if it had been vigorously pros- 
ecuted up to the present time, must, of course, remain a 
matter of conjecture. I have often thought, and so had 
my lamented friend, that we had vitality and energy enough 
in our faculty to build up a great and flourishing institu- 
tion, creditable alike to the West and to the United States. 
He had a high opinion of the ability, zeal and learning of 
his colleagues, whom he never ceased to regard as one of 
the most powerful bodies of men with whom he was ever 
associated in medical teaching. The correctness of his 
judgment was amply confirmed by the elevated position 
to which most of them have since attained. Gradually 



24 



one after another was called into the field, until all were 
at length employed in their former useful and honorable 
pursuits. Of that band, to which my heart and mind fre- 
quently revert, only four remain ; three, after having at- 
tained an elevated position and reputation, slumber among 
the dead ; while another is gradually and silently tottering 
into the grave which yawns beneath his feet. 

Dr. Drake did not long continue idle. The Faculty of 
the Cincinnati College had hardly been disbanded, when he 
received an invitation from the Trustees of this University 
to the chair of Clinical Medicine and Pathological Anat- 
omy. This chair, created with special reference to him, 
was not only novel in its character in this country, but it 
labored under the additional disadvantage of being an 
♦'eighth chair" ; a circumstance without a precedent in 
the United States. The anomaly was still further increased 
by the establishment of an aggregate ticket of one hundred 
and twenty dollars. It was a bold experiment ; but the 
result showed that those who made it had not acted in the 
matter unwisely. The new incumbent acquitted himself 
with great ability, the new chair soon became popular, and 
the rapid increase of the school fully attested the wisdom 
and the policy of the new measure, which secured to its 
faculty a gentleman of such enlarged experience and re- 
putation as a teacher. 

Dr. Drake remained in the occupancy of this chair until 
the spring of 1844, when, on the retirement of Dr. Cooke, 
he was transferred to the chair of Medicine. He continued 
to labor in this department with his accustomed zeal and 
eloquence until the close of the session of 1849; when he 
sent his resignation to the Board of Trustees. The win- 
ter before he vacated his chair he lectured to four hundred 
and six pupils, the largest class ever assembled within the 
walls of any medical institution in the valley of the Missis- 
sippi. The prosperity of the University, indeed, could 
hardly have been greater when he left it, although the 



25 



number of students was somewhat less than the preceding 
session, and the utmost harmony prevailed in the Faculty. 
Notwithstanding these circumstances, he deemed it his 
duty to retire. The reason which he assigned for this 
step was, that he should, in another year, reach the period 
of life, when, by an act of the Board of Trustees, a profes- 
sor becomes superannuated, and he thought it his duty to 
anticipate this law, notwithstanding the framers of it had, 
when they learned his intentions, abrogated it in his favor. 

Soon after his retirement from Louisville, Dr. Drake 
was invited to the Chair of Medicine in the Medical College 
of Ohio ; an appointment which, after some hesitation, he 
accepted, but which he filled only one session. Troubles, 
either real or imaginary, arose during the winter, and at 
the close of the term he found himself once more without 
a professor's chair. The introductory lecture which he 
delivered at the opening of the course is so characteristic 
of his love for the institution of his founding, and so ex- 
pressive of his ardent temperament, that I cannot refrain 
from quoting from it one passage. 

After alluding to his connection with various medical 
institutions, and to the fidelity with which he had served 
them; to the fact that he had been the first medical pupil 
in Cincinnati; and to the circumstance that he had founded, 
thirty years ago, the school in which they were then as- 
sembled, he says : "My heart still fondly turned to my 
first love, your alma mater. Her image, glowing in the 
warm and radiant tints of earlier life, was ever in my view. 
Transylvania had been reorganized in 1819, and included 
in its Faculty Professor Dudley, whose surgical fame had 
already spread throughout the West, and that paragon of 
labor and perseverance, Professor Caldwell, now a veteran 
octogenarian. In the year after my separation from this 
school, I was recalled to that ; but neither the eloquence of 
colleagues, nor the greeting of the largest classes which 
the University ever enjoyed, could drive that beautiful 

4 



26 



image from my mind. After four sessions I resigned ; and 
was subsequently called to Jefferson Medical College, 
Philadelphia; but the image mingled with my shadow; 
and when we reached the summit of the mountain, it bade 
me stop, and gaze upon the silvery cloud which hung over 
the place where you are now assembled. Afterward, in 
the Medical Department of Cincinnati College, I lectured 
with men of power, to young men thirsting for knowledge, 
but the image still hovered around me. I was then invi- 
ted to Louisville, became a member of one of the ablest 
Faculties ever embodied in the West, and saw the halls 
of the University rapidly filled. But when I looked on the 
faces of four hundred students, behold, the image was in 
their midst. While there T prosecuted an extensive course 
of personal inquiry into the causes and cure of the diseases 
of the interior of the continent; and in journeyings by day, 
and journeyings by night — on the water, and on the land 
— while struggling through the matted rushes where the 
Mississippi mingles with the Gulf — or camping with 
Indians and Canadian boatmen, under the pines and birches 
of Lake Superior, the image was still my faithful compan- 
ion, and whispered sweet words of encouragement and 
hope. I bided my time ; and after twice doubling the 
period through which Jacob waited for his Rachael, the 
united voice of the Trustees and Professors has recalled 
me to the chair which I held in the beginning." 

In the autumn of 1850, Dr. Drake was recalled to Lou- 
isville, to the chair which he had vacated eighteen 
months before. He remained in the school for two ses- 
sions, and then finally left it, once more to re-enter the 
Medical College of Ohio, now re-organized with an abler 
Faculty, and under brighter auspices. It was here, just 
at the opening of the session, full of hope and expecta- 
tion about the class and the prospects of the Institution, 
that the hand of death was laid upon him, and that his 
varied but brilliant career was arrested. 



27 



The friends of Dr. Drake cannot but regret that he 
should have deemed it necessary, at his advanced age, to 
leave the University of Louisville, with which his name 
and fame had been so long associated, for the Medical 
College of Ohio, He could hardly have hoped, under 
the circumstances, to teach much longer, and it was 
scarcely reasonable in him to expect, that, in his endeavors 
to build up a great and flourishing institution, he could, 
at least for the first few years, enjoy much ease of mind, 
or relaxation of body. But a destiny seemed to have 
hung over him, and to have hurried him on. He could 
not, and would not, resist a long-cherished wish to spend 
the evening of his life in an institution, to which, early in 
his career, when he had not yet acquired any substantial 
fame, he had given birth. His affections had never been 
alienated from her for a moment, even in his exile as a 
teacher in other States; he fondly hoped that he should 
live long enough to see her assume a proud rank among 
the great schools of the country; and he prayed that G^>d 
might permit him to breathe out his last breath in her 
service, and that he might die in the midst of her pupils, 
and be followed by them to his final resting place in the 
tomb. His wish, in this respect, was gratified; and few 
can doubt, that, had his life been spared a few years lon- 
ger, he would have realized his other expectations. 

Having spoken of Dr. Drake as a founder of Medical 
Schools, and of his connection with various Medical 
Faculties, we may, in the next place, contemplate him as 
a philanthropist and a patriot. 

The subject of public education and morals was always 
near his heart. He took an active part in the establish- 
ment and support of the "Western Literary Institute and 
College of Professional Teachers" at Cincinnati, attended 
many of its meetings, often served upon its committees, 
and delivered several addresses, replete with wisdom and 
sound learning. The first time I ever heard him speak 



28 



in public was at a meeting of this kind in 1834. He 
cherished, with a deep and abiding interest, all institutions 
for the diffusion of knowledge, and for the promotion of 
virtue and piety, as well as all charitable establishments, 
especially hospitals, lunatic asylums, and schools for 
the education of the blind and the deaf and dumb. 

In 1821, he procured, by personal application to the 
Legislature of Ohio, aided by the recommendation of Gov. 
Brown, the establishment, at Cincinnati, of a charitable 
institution, denominated the Commercial Hospital of Ohio, 
of which, at the time of his death, he was one of the phy- 
sicians. The grant was accompanied by an endowment, 
which has afforded the institution great facilities, and en- 
abled it to diffuse its blessings widely among the poor-sick 
of the city and township of Cincinnati, as well as among 
the boatmen of the Southwestern waters. Connected 
with the Hospital was a Poor House, and an Asylum for 
the Insane ; the latter of which, however, proving inade- 
quate to the objects intended, Dr. Drake used every pos- 
sible exertion, by repeated appeals to his brethren, and, 
finally, to the Legislature, to have this portion of the 
establishment removed, and placed under a separate 
board. The result was the present noble Institution for 
the Insane at Columbus, the Capital of Ohio. 

In January, 1834, we find him addressing an appeal to 
the Legislature of his adopted State in behalf of the 
establishment of an institution for the education of the 
Blind; and, early in the following year, he read an able 
report before the Medical Convention of Ohio, at their 
meeting at Columbus, on the necessity for hospitals in the 
valleys of the Mississippi and the Lakes, for the accom- 
modation and relief of those engaged in the commerce of 
the Southwest, as well as of travelers. Copies of this 
report were transmitted to the General Assembly of Ohio, 
and to the President of the United States, to Congress, 
and to the Heads of Departments. How far these labors 



29 



were instrumental in promoting the object in question, I 
am not informed ; but it is certain that Congress soon 
afterwards authorized the establishment of these institu- 
tions, and that they now greet the eye and cheer the 
spirits of the boatman at numerous points of the South- 
west. It is but justice to state, in this connection, that 
the idea of this great and noble project originated with 
Dr. Cornelius Campbell, a benevolent physician of St. 
Louis. 

In 1827, Dr. Drake established the Cincinnati Eye In- 
firmary. It was modeled after similar institutions in New 
York and Philadelphia, had a regular board of visitors, 
and was intended for the reception and accommodation of 
all classes of ophthalmic patients, the poor as well as the 
rich, but particularly the former. It was the first attempt 
of the kind in the Southwest, and, for a time, was emi- 
nently successful. The indigent sick from the city and 
neighborhood flocked to it daily for advice and treatment, 
and it speedily attracted persons from a distance. The 
consequence was that Dr. Drake soon became a distin- 
guished oculist, and acquired no little skill as an ophthal- 
mic surgeon. I doubt whether any other practitioner in 
the Southwest performed, during the first few years after 
the establishment of this institution, so many operations 
for cataract, artificial pupil, pterygium, and lachrymal 
fistula. His favorite operation for cataract was division, 
but he also occasionally performed extraction; a proce- 
dure requiring great manual dexterity and a thorough 
knowledge of the anatomy of the eye. 

How long the Eye Infirmary remained open, I am una- 
ble to say; its usefulness was much impaired by the fre- 
quent absence of its founder, and after having been in a 
languishing condition for several years, its doors were 
finally closed. No attempt to revive the institution has 
since been made; a circumstance so much the more re- 
markable, considering the astonishing number of persons 



30 



affected with all kinds of diseases of the eye in the West- 
ern and Southern States. 

Daring his connection with this institution, Dr. Drake 
made ophthalmic medicine and surgery his special study; 
he purchased numerous works upon the subject, both in 
the English and French languages, and supplied himself 
with all the most approved instruments. Some of these 
works he reviewed elaborately in his medical journal ; and 
he also published, about this period, several interesting 
and valuable papers upon different topics connected with 
this department. 

To the influence of Dr. Drake was due, in no small 
degree, the establishment of the Kentucky School for the 
Instruction of the Blind in this city. The circumstances 
which led to the organization of this noble institution, so 
honorable to Louisville and to our State, are not without 
interest, and reflect much credit upon the zeal and benev- 
olence of the subject of this memorial, who, admidst his 
vast professional labors, severe enough to daunt the hearts 
of fifty ordinary men, was ever keenly alive to the welfare 
and happiness of his fellow creatures of every rank and 
condition. In the winter of 1840 — 41, soon after he be- 
came a professor in this University, he delivered, once a 
week, upon the very spot upon which I now stand, a 
course of popular lectures on Physiology, and when he 
came to the eye, as an organ of vision, devoted an evening 
to the method of instructing the blind. With the aid of 
Mr. Patten, a former pupil of the School at Boston, he 
gave a practical illustration of the manner of teaching this 
unfortunate class of beings, in reading, writing, arithmetic 
and geography, concluding with an urgent and eloquent 
appeal to the audience, a highly numerous and respectable 
one, in favor of such an establishment in this city. The 
appeal, thus made, was not in vain. I t was like a spark 
of fire falling upon combustible material. Every one 
present was affected by it ; that evening, the blind, hitherto 



31 



neglected, and almost forgotten, had many friends. Among 
these stood preeminent, as he always does in every charit- 
abl2 and benevolent enterprise in this community, one 
whose name is not less beloved than respected. I allude 
to our distinguished fellow-citizen, Judge Bullock. This 
gentleman, at the time referred to, was a member of the 
Legislature, and as soon as the lecturer sat down he came 
forward and expressed his determination to agita e the 
subject in the General Assembly, immediately after the 
opening of the session at Frankfort. Professor Drake 
afterwards furnished him with a variety of documents and. 
reports, by the aid of which he framed a bill, which he 
sustained by an eloquent speech. Without difficulty it 
passed the house of which he was a member, but was laid 
over in the other.* 

At the next session the bill was passed almost without 
a dissenting voice ; the Legislature at the same time gran- 
ting ten thousand dollars to endow the institution, on con- 
dition that this city would first raise the means to put it 
into operation. These means being promptly supplied, the 
school was organized forthwith. What progress it has 
made, what good it has achieved, and what blessings it is 
daily conferring, under the wise and benevolent manage- 
ment of its present superintendent, Mr. Patten, is too well 
known to require any comment on this occasion. 

It would be doing injustice to my own feelings, as well 
as to the subject, if I were to neglect to mention, in con- 
nection with this topic, the names of Dr. Howe, of Boston, 
and Mr, Chapin, of Columbus, Ohio. These gentlemen, 
who are the superintendents, respectively, of the institu- 
tions for the education of the blind in Massachusetts and 
Ohio, benevolently visited Frankfort and Louisville, each 
with two pupils, with whose aid they gave several most 
interesting exhibitions, to the gratification both of the 

* Western Journal of Med. and Surgery, vol. 5, p. 317 : 1812. 

3* 



32 



members of the Legislature and of the community at large. 
Such was the impression made by the exersises of these 
children upon the General Assembly, that, as has just 
been stated, Judge Bullock's bill was passed with hardly 
any opposition. 

Dr. Drake had always, from an early period of his life, 
evinced a deep interest in the cause of temperance, un- 
fortunately now so much on the decline. During his res- 
idence at Mays Lick, the rallying point, for many years, 
of the people of the neighborhood on election, parade, and 
gala days, as well as during court-time, he often had oc- 
casion, when yet a mere boy, to witness the deplorable 
and disgusting effects of the inordinate use of intoxicating 
drinks, and subsequently, after he had become a student 
and practitioner of medicine, he could not fail to observe 
that it was a frequent cause of disease and death, both 
moral and physical. He saw that it was the source of in- 
calculable mischief, and that it lay at the foundation of 
nearly all the crimes that degrade and debase society, and 
reduce man to the level and condition of the animals by 
hi cli he is surrounded. He saw at work an enemy, 
which, like " the pestilence that walketh by noon-day, " 
silently butefTectually destroys the peace and happiness of 
the domestic circle, which raises the arm of the parent 
against the child and of the child against the parent, and 
which fills our infirmaries, poor-houses, and penitentiaries 
with inmates. In a word, he saw that intemperance was 
sitting, like a mighty incubus, upon the bosom of society, 
tainting its very breath, and, in some instances, threaten- 
ing the annihilation of entire families. 

To such scenes, so well calculated to rouse his young 
and philanthropic mind, Dr. Drake could not long remain 
an idle and unconcerned spectator. He felt that there 
was a necessity for reform, and, like a true christian and 
patriot, as he was, he vigorously engaged in the work, 
determined, as far as his time and means would admit, to 



33 



do his part in arresting an evil, fraught with such momen- 
tous consequences to the peace and happiness of his fel- 
low-creatures. Address followed address, and for a time 
the pages of his medical journal, the sure and steady 
medium of communication between him and his profes- 
sioal brethren, were literally teeming with articles upon 
the subject, dwelling with eloquent emphasis upon the 
malign and destructive effects of ardent spirits upon the 
human subject, considered in his moral, physiological, in- 
tellectual, and legal relations. 

It was, while thus occupied in advocating and advancing 
the cause of temperance, that an incident occurred in the 
neighborhood of Cincinnati which afforded Dr. Drake an 
opportunity for the application of his knowledge and talents 
to the elucidation of a question of juridical medicine, often 
agitated but never until then fully established. In March, 
1829, an old man, named Birdsell, was convicted on an ac- 
cusation of the murder of his own wife, and sentenced to 
capital punishment. He had been long addicted to the 
inordinate use of ardent spirits, followed by occasional 
attacks of mania a potu, in one of which he committed 
the crime which he was about to expiate upon the gal- 
lows. Dr. Drake having carefully investigated the case, 
became so fully satisfied that the prisoner labored under 
a paroxysm of this kind at the time referred to, that he 
was induced to regard him as an irresponsible individual, 
precisely as a man who perpetrates homicide when af- 
fected with mental alienation from other causes. The 
court, however, waved alldiscusssion of the point, so ably 
presented by the learned witness, and submitted the case, 
with the broadfacts, to the jury, who returned a verdict 
of murder in the first degree. A minute account of the 
trial was soon after published in the third volume of the 
Western Journal of the Medical and Physical Sciences, in 
which Dr. Drake fully elaborated his views, and unhesita- 
tingly affirmed that insanity of this kind ought in law to 

5 



34 



be an immunity from punishment. The paper attracted 
much attention, and its sentiments received the unqualified 
approbation of a number of the leading medical men of 
the country. The American Jurist and Law Magazine, 
published at Boston, gave an extended notice of it, and 
endorsed the correctness of the author's conclusions ; a 
circumstance, which, considering the able character of 
that periodical, was highly flattering to his judgment and 
scientific attainments. Professor Beck, of Albany, also 
presented a full outline of the case in his great and 
learned work on Medical Jurisprudence, expressing his 
conviction of the correctness of Dr. Drake's opinion, and 
awarding to that gentleman the praise of originality for 
bis suggestions. The case likewise attracted the atten- 
tion of Gov. Trimble, who considered it of sufficient 
importance to invite to it, in his annual message, the at- 
tention of the General Assembly of Ohio, and who, when 
he found that his appeal was in vain, had the humanity, 
as well as the sagacity and firmness, to commute the pun- 
ishment of the criminal into perpetual imprisonment ; 
thereby preserving the judiciary from the odium of ille- 
gally depriving a citizen of his life. 

In December, 1841, Dr. Drake organized in this Univer- 
sity, then the Medical Institute of Louisville, «'the Physi- 
ological Temperance Society," for the benefit of the mem- 
bers of the medical class, of whom it was exclusively com- 
posed. Its object was to investigate the subject of alcoholic 
drinks, in their effects upon the system, and, incidentally, 
the abuse of other stimulants and narcotics. The society 
soon became popular with the pupils; for, in less than a 
month after its establishment , it had upwards of one 
hundred members, embracing nearly two-fifths of the 
entire class. Its meetings were held semi-monthly 
throughout the session of the school ; and its exercises, 
n which the distinguished and philanthropic founder, who 
was also its President, always took an active part, con- 



35 



sisted in the reading of reports and the delivery of ad- 
dresses on the nature and composition of the different 
kinds of liquor, and of their effects upon the system, in 
its healthy and diseased condition. The association con- 
tinued in active operation until the Spring of 1849, when, 
in consequence of Dr. Drake's retirement from the Univer- 
sity, it was abandoned. That its labors accomplished 
much good, and were frequently blessed in the persons of 
its members is too obvious to require any comment. The 
influence which it exerted was not confined to the pupils 
of the University, nor the members of the society; it ex- 
tended over a wider sphere, and exhibited itself in every 
community in which its members settled. 

In 1835, he exerted himself, with the ability of a states- 
man and the zeal of a true patriot, to enlist the attention 
of the people of the Southwest in favor of the establish- 
ment of a great railroad chain between the Ohio river 
and the tide-waters of the Carolinas and Georgia. In the 
month of August of that year, he presented an elaborate 
report upon the subject at a public meeting of citizens of 
Cincinnati, pointing out the advantages, in a commercial, 
social, and political aspect, of such a road, and concluding 
with an eloquent appeal to the people of the different 
States through which it was to pass, or which were to be 
benefitted by its erection. Great interest was, for a while, 
felt in the subject. On the 4th of July, 183C, a large conven- 
tion was held at Knoxville, Tennessee, at which not less 
than nine States were represented. Dr. Drake was a mem- 
ber of that convention, as well as a member of the general 
committee which prepared business, and made a report 
on the practicability of the enterprise, and the best method 
of obtaining the requisite authority for carrying it into 
successful operation. The plan finally failed, chiefly on 
account of the unwillingness on the part of Kentucky, 
whose welfare, it was supposed, might seriously suffer by 



36 



the result, to grant the right of way through her terri- 
tory. 

I was always of opinion, as indeed 1 am still, that Dr. 
Drake was exclusively entitled to the honor of having 
originated this gigantic scheme, so well calculated to de- 
velope the resources of the Southwest, and to furnish a 
means of intercommunication between her citizens, thus 
aiding in breaking down the bitter feelings of prejudice 
and hostility, growing out of the differences of their inter- 
ests and domestic institutions; but I learned, some years 
ago, that another gentleman, since deceased, had set up 
his own claims, and defended them with some degree of 
acrimony. My information does not enable me to decide 
the question of priority in favor of either party. But I 
may be permitted to say that I was present at the meeting 
above referred to, at which my late friend read his report, 
and indulged in remarks tending to show that the credit 
of the suggestion belonged entirely to himself. Subse- 
quently, in conversation with him upon the subject, he 
held similar language, and it is perfectly certain, as the 
proceedings declare, that he offered the resolution which 
led to the appointment of the committee of which he was 
the chairman. However the question may be ultimately 
decided by those most interested in it, it is much to be 
regretted that an enterprise, pregnant with such impor- 
tant results to the whole Southwest, and advocated by so 
able and zealous a champion, should never have been car- 
ried into effect for the want of proper co-operation of 
some of our States. 

After having spoken of some of the advantages which 
would be likely to accrue from the undertaking, Dr. Drake 
makes the following pertinent remarks, the truth of which 
every one will acknowledge: "But the most interesting 
and affecting consequences that would flow from the exe- 
cution of this enterprise would be the social and political. 
What is now the amount of personal intercourse between 



37 



the millions of American fellow-citizens of North Carolina, 
South Carolina, and Georgia, on the one hand, and Ken- 
tucky, Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois, on the other ? Do they 
not live and die in ignorance of each other; and, perhaps, 
with wrong opinions and prejudices, which the intercourse 
of a few years would annihilate forever? Should this 
work be executed, the personal communication between 
the North and South would instantly become unprece- 
dented in the United States. Louisville and Augusta 
would be brought into social intercourse; Cincinnati and 
Charleston would be neighbors; and parties of pleasure 
would start from the banks of the Savannah for those of 
the Ohio river. The people of the two great valleys 
would, in summer, meet in the intervening mountain re- 
gion of North Carolina and Tennessee, one of the most 
delightful climates in the United States; exchange their 
opinions, compare their sentiments, and blend their feel- 
ings; the North and the South would, in fact, shake hands 
with each other, yield up their social and political hos- 
tility, pledge themselves to common national interests, 
and part as friends and brethren." Noble sentiments ! 
What heart is there that does not vibrate in unison with 
them, and devoutly wish for their consummation ! The 
enterprise, if it had been executed, would have formed a 
great and enduring monument to the genius and patriotism 
of Dr. Drake, and served as a chain of adamant between 
the West and the South, identifying their interests, and 
binding them together by indissoluble ties. The Buckeye 
and the Palmetto would have intertwined their branches 
and kissed each other. 

In a brief memorial, it cannot be expected that we 
should touch upon every event in the life of Dr. Drake. 
It is the duty of biography to elaborate his history and to 
place before the world, in a bold and conspicuous light, 
the prominent traits of his career. We cannot, however, 
close this branch of the subject, without bringing before 



36 



you the recollection of a feature in his character, as extra- 
ordinary as it is beautiful and impressive. I allude to his 
attachment to Cincinnati, the checkered scene, for fifty 
vears, of his labors and his usefulness. Although he was 
often absent, such was his loyality and devotion, that no 
earthly consideration could induce him to change his resi- 
dence or abandon his citizen-ship. If he occasionally left 
her for a season, it was only that he might enjoy her the 
more at his return, as a lover sometimes voluntarily ab- 
sents himself from his mistress that he may enjoy her 
presence the more at his reunion with her. His love for 
Cincinnati was real and unaffected. He had been her first 
medical pupil, her first medical graduate, her first medical 
author, and the founder of her first medical school. He 
had watched her progress with the satisfaction that a 
parent watches the career of a favorite and promising 
child ; he had seen her in her weakness, and he had be- 
held her in the might of her strength, after she had risen 
to opulence and respectability as a great commercial 
mart, as a nursery of painters and sculptors, and as a city 
of able, enterprising, and enlightened men. If she is not 
-the seat of a great medical school, an object which he had 
unceasingly at heart for the third of a century, the fault 
was not his, but of the circumstances by which he was 
surrounded, and which neither his genius, his industry, 
nor his tactics could control. Whether absent or present, 
whether in prosperity or adversity, he never ceased to 
love her, and to feel and manifest the deepest interest in 
her welfare and prosperity. There was hardly a measure, 
projected during his life-time, intended to promote her 
advancement, that did not either originate with him, or 
meet his hearty co-operation and support. Her people 
owe him a lasting debt of gratitude, not only for the many 
services which he rendered her, but also for being, at the 
time of his death, her greatest and most illustrious citizen. 
His attachment to the West was hardly less remarkable. 



39 



No inducements could seduce him away from the adopted 
home of his parents; he' loved its broad and luxuriant 
fields, covered with herds and wild flowers, its noble and 
romantic forests, rendered vocal with the music of birds 
and insects, and its graceful and majestic streams, bearing 
upon their bosom thrice a thousand vessels, freighted with 
the produce of its rich and fertile soil. Every thing 
around him was in harmony with his nature; and a resi- 
dence in New-England, or New-Jersey, his native State, 
would have been as irksome and distasteful to him, as a 
residence at the Capital of the Union would be to the wild 
man of the forest. 

Yet was his love not selfish ; it was not limited to Cin- 
cinnati and the West; it embraced the whole Union, and 
gloried in every measure that was adopted for its safety, 
welfare, and perpetuity. A nobler and truer heart never 
pulsated in the bosom of an American citizen ; a brighter 
and more steady flame of patriotism never burned in the 
breast of an American statesman. He watched with in- 
tense anxiety, hardly exceeded by that of Mr. Clay him- 
self, the Compromise of 1850, and no one was more hear- 
tily rejoiced at its successful issue. While his domestic 
feelings, all his home sympathies, were for the West, his 
heart and soul were for the Union, embracing all its most 
cherished interests. 

While the discussion of the Compromise question was 
going on in the Senate of the United States, and every 
where agitating the public mind, Dr. Drake was not idle. 
He had long perceived and lamented the ignorance which 
prevailed upon the subject of slavery in the Northern and 
Eastern states, and he determined, though not without 
reluctance, on account of the novelty of his position, to 
correct, if possible, some of the many misapprehensions 
under which many even of the better and more enlight- 
end people of those regions labored. He knew, at all 
events, that an appeal to facts, vouched by his own ex- 



40 



perience and veracity, could do no harm, while, perhaps, 
it might effect some good. He could not disguise from 
himself the circumstance that his name was familiar to all 
the great and leading men of New-England, and he accor- 
dingly addressed himself, as the honored vehicle of his 
communications, to one of the fathers of his own profes- 
sion in that country. This gentleman was Dr. John C. 
Warren, an old personal friend, by several years his 
senior, and for a long time professor of Anatomy and 
Surgery in Harvard University at Boston. The letters 
which he addressed to this distinguished physician and 
surgeon, were three in number, and they were published, 
some months afterwards, in the National Intelligencer at 
Washington. They were written in the winter of 1850-51, 
while the author was delivering a course of medical 
lectures in this University, and are characterized by great 
force of style, by remarkable moderation of tone and feel- 
ing, and by extraordinary logical precision, combined with 
a thorough knowledge of the subject. They attracted 
much attention at the time, and deserve to be preserved 
in book form, for extensive distribution. A copy should 
be sent to every house in the free states ; for no better 
antidote could be furnished against the poisonous influen- 
ces of such exaggerated productions as "Uncle Tom's 
Cabin." It would induce the rash and misguided to 
pause, and to consider whether the course they are pursu- 
ing is not calculated to do vast and abiding mischief, not 
only to. the slave but to the Union. Dr. Drake deserves 
the thanks and the gratitude of every American citizen 
for stepping aside from his ordinary pursuits, from no 
other motive than that of serving his country, to discuss, 
in so able and philosophical manner, atopic of such great 
and absorbing interest. 

I have heard it alleged that Dr. Drake was an abolition- 
ist; an abolitionist in the modern and northern sense of 
the term. Such was not the fact. He was a man of too 



41 



much intelligence, and too intimately acquainted with the 
subject of slavery, in all its forms and phases, to favor, in 
the most remote decree, the ill-judged, wild, and unfortu- 
nate movements of the northern fanatic. He knew that 
their tendency but too surely was to rivet the chains more 
firmly upon the colored man, and he had seen enough of 
slavery in his travels in the south to satisfy himself, that 
the condition of Africa's descendants was far better and 
happier than that of the free negro of the north, or even 
of the poorer classes of whites. Until the close of his 
fifteenth year, when he took up his residence at Cincin- 
nati, he was an eye-witness to slavery in many of its 
worst forms. The early settlers of Mays Lick were severe 
task-masters ; and numerous occasions occured in which 
his feelings were deeply shocked and his sympathies 
warmly excited. It was during his sojourn here, when he 
was hardly thirteen years of age, that the second consti- 
tution of Kentucky was adopted. During the canvass 
immediately preceding this event, a very strong effort 
was made over the whole State to elect members to the 
convention, win) would favor the gradual abolition of 
slavery. Mr. Clay, who had only a short time before 
emigrated from Virginia, and settled at Lexington, united 
himself with that party, and labored zealously in the good 
cause; which, however, as is well known, failed of success. 
Dr. Drake's father was a warm and impassioned partizan; 
and his own feelings and thoughts ran in the same channel. 
Subsequently, while he was connected with this Univer- 
sity, and engaged in collecting materials for his great work 
on the diseases of the Southwest, lie had excellent op- 
portunities for investigating the whole subject of slavery, 
and the result was that he became satisfied that the con- 
dition of the negro in all the States which he had visited 
— Virginia, Kentucky, Tennessee, Missouri, Mississippi, 
Louisiana. Alabama and Florida — was far better than in 
former times ; that he was better fed, clothed and lodged ; 

6 



42 



less severely punished ; and, in all respects, better cared 
for than he was forty, thirty, or even twenty years ago. 
In short, he saw every where around him evidences of 
amelioration and improvement, and a state of things 
strictly in harmony with the spirit and humane tendencies 
of the age. After having discussed the subject in all its 
bearings and relations, he concludes with the expression 
of his opinion that the policy and true interest of all is to 
leave all slaves and all negroes, except those of the north, 
to the management of the south. 

Dr. Drake was a voluminous writer. His contributions 
to medical journals, in the form of original essays, reviews, 
and bibliographical notices, his temperance lectures, and 
public addresses, would, if collected, form several large oc- 
tavo volumes. Much, indeed by far the most, of what 
he wrote was excellent ; some was, perhaps, indifferent ; 
but none was bad. "Nihil quod tetigit non ornavit. " 
His style was always clear, fresh, and vigorous, often elo- 
quent, and sometimes elegant. Asa reviewer, his perfor- 
mances were generally rather analytical than critical. In-r- 
deed, as a critic he usually failed from a sense of too much 
cautiousness. As a medical journalist, he labored hard, 
and long, and zealously to elevate the character and dig- 
nity of the profession in the West and South, and did, 
beyond doubt, the cause an immense amount of service. 
His pen, for many years, was never idle ; and if it was 
occasionally dipped in the ink of bitternes, to minister a 
rebuke or silence an enemy, it was only for a moment, 
when it would resume its wonted channel, and deposit the 
rich and varied freight of his well-stored mind. 

His first attempt at medical or scientific authorship 
was in 1810, five years after he attended his first course 
of lectures in Philadelphia, and five years before he 
became a graduate. It was comprised in a small pam- 
phlet on the " Topography, Climate, and Diseases of Cin- 
cinnati, " where he then resided. Although designed ex- 



43 



clusively for his professional and scientific friends, the 
work soon attracted the attention of travelers, in quest of 
information concerning the West, and thus suggested to 
him the idea of a treatise, constructed on a similar but 
much more extended scale. The result was his " Picture 
of Cincinnati, " which soon acquired for him not only an 
American but a European reputation. It was published 
at Cincinnati in 1815, under the title of " Natural and 
Statistical View, or Picture of Cincinnati and the Miami 
Country. " It was illustrated by maps, and accompan- 
ied by an appendix, giving an account of some late earth- 
quakes, the aurora borealis, and Southwest wind; the 
whole forming a duodecimo volume of two hundred and 
fifty-one pages. The book soon attracted the attention of 
the public, and invited emigration to the West, but espe- 
cially to Cincinnati, from all parts of America and Eu- 
rope. Everybody became interested in a country, before 
so little known, and possessing advantages so glowingly 
depicted in the work under consideration. It was evident 
that the author had made a hit, not in a pecuniary point 
of view, but decidedly as it respected his reputation, and 
the future growth of what, in due time, was destined to 
become the " Queen City. " 

To give an analysis of this work would be out of place 
on this occasion. Suffice it to say that it is occupied 
with a geographical and historical account of the West, 
with a consideration of its physical, civil, political, and 
medical topography, and with a description of its anti- 
quities, together with a notice of its projected improve- 
ments and future prospects, the latter of which are deline- 
ated in eloquent and patriotic terms, worthy of their 
and the author's high destiny. As a mere literary per- 
formance, the " Picture of Cincinnati" reflects the force 
and vigor of an able pen ; but its pages are deformed by 
a bad style, a strange punctuation, and a profusion of 
dashes and corramas, indicative of the writer's inexperi- 



44 



ence as a practical scholar. Of these defects he himself 
seems to have been fully sensible, as he apologizes for them 
ki his preface. 

In J827, twelve years after the publication of the "Pic- 
ture of Cincinnati," Dr. Drake projected the Western 
Journal of the Medical and Physical Sciences, the first 
number of which appeared in April of that year. The 
motto of the work, engraved upon a flower of the Cornus 
Florida upon the title page, was exceedingly happy and 
appropriate: "E sylvis, seque atque ad sylvas nun- 
cius." Il was literally, at that period, a messenger not 
only from, but also to, the woods. During the first year 
he had associated with him, as co-editor, Dr. James C. 
Finley, but at the end of that time it was brought out 
under his own management, which was continued until 
1836, when, in consequence of his numerous engagements, 
and his frequent absence from home, he procured the effi- 
cient aid of Dr. William Wood, of Cincinnati, one of his 
former pupils. The Journal was originally issued 
monthly ; but afterwards quarterly, and it continued to 
appear in this manner up to the period of the dissolution 
of the Medical Department of the Cincinnati College in 
1839, when it was transferred to this city, and merged in 
the Louisville Journal of Medicine and JSugery, begun 
under the auspices of Professors Miller and Yandell, and 
Dr. T. S. Bell, but suspended before the completion of 
the first volume.* 

It is no easy matter, even under the most propitious 
circumstances, to maintain a public journal of medicine. 
The difficulties were much greater twenty five years ago 
than at present : then the West had few writers, and an 
editor was often compelled, from the paucity of material, 
to rely mainly upon his own efforts for filling up the pages 



* Drake*s Discourse before the Cincinnati Medical Library Associa- 
tion. 



4> 



of his periodical. Many of the contributions that were 
sent in for the Western Journal of the Medical and Physi- 
cal Sciences, displayed the most miserable scholarship, 
and the consequence was that not a few of them had to 
be entirely re-written before they could be committed to 
the hands of the compositor. ''Copying:, transposing, 
abridging, inverting, retro verting, decomposing, and re- 
composing," were a part of the labor and drudgery to 
which Dr. Drake had to submit in the progress of his 
enterprise. Nothing daunted, however, he worked hard 
upon its pages, which he adorned with many of his own 
effusions, both in the form of original articles and of re- 
views, until, after having been engaged upon it for twelve 
years, he finally, on his removal to Louisville, disposed of 
it in the manner already mentioned. 

Writing nine years after the commencement of the 
journal, he quaintly observes that lie had already owed 
allegiance to not less than nine publishers. "Thus," 
says he, "if our editorial vitality had not been truly feline, 
we should now be defunct." In consequence of these 
frequent changes the work was rarely issued with any 
regularity, and hence much complaint on the part of sub- 
scribers was the result. 

The work received little or no patronage in the Middle 
and Atlantic States. When it had reached the comple- 
tion of the sixth volume it had not a dozen subscribers on 
the other side of the Alleghany mountains. In Philadel- 
phia, the seat of the editor's alma mater, and the so-called 
emporium of medical science, medical education, and 
medical scholarship, the only subscriber, for sometime, 
was the high-minded and public- spirited Mathew Carey, 
Esq., of that city. Nor was this all ; the enterprise, it 
would seem, seldom received any notice from the medical 
press of the Eastern States: yet the work lived on, and 



46 



attained quite a respectable age for one so entirely back- 
woods in its origin, style, and garb.* 

The periodical having been transferred to Kentucky, 
now assumed the name of the Western Journal of Medi- 
cine and Surgery, which it still retains. Dr. Drake hav- 
ing acquired an extensive reputation as an able and inde- 
fatigable editor, consented to place his name upon the title- 
page, and thereafter the work was issued under the joint 
supervision of himself and Dr. Yandell. The senior edi- 
tor, however, did not contribute much to its pages, for 
nearly all his time was now occupied in teaching and in col- 
lecting materials for his great work, and, in 1848, he finally 
withdrew from the enterpise. It is but just to add that for 
about four years, during which the editorship was in the 
hands of Dr. Drake, the journal received most important 
services from Dr. Colescott, of this city, upon whom much 
of its drudgery devolved, and who rendered the work 
somewhat famous on account of some of his caustic re- 
views. 

The interest which Dr. Drake always felt for his pro- 
fession induced him, in 1829, to begin the publication, in 
the Western Journal of the Medioal and Physical Sciences, 
of a series of " Essays on Medical Education and the 
Medical Profession in the United States. " The papers 
appeared in successive numbers of the periodical in ques- 
tion, and were finally, in 1832, collected into a small octavo 
volume of upwards of one hundred closely printed pages. 
They are written with the author's wonted vigor of style, 
and display, throughout, great sound sense, a discrimina- 
ting judgment, and a profound acquaintance with the to- 
pics of which they treat. The number of essays amounts 
to seven ; the first of which relates to the selection and 
preparatory education of pupils ; the second to private 



* West. Jour. Med. and Phys. Sciences, vol. 3, p. 152; 2d Hexade: 
1833. 



47 



pupilage ; the third to medical colleges ; the fourth to the 
studies, duties, and interests of young physicians ; the 
fifth to the causes of error in the medical and physical 
sciences; the sixth to legislative enactments ; and the last 
to professional quarrels. 

In looking, lately, with some degree of care, over this 
work, I have become impressed with the conviction that 
it is a production of great merit, and one that ought to 
be in the hands of every medical pupil and junior prac- 
titioner in the country. It comprises an admirable out- 
line of medical ethics, or of the duties of medical men 
towards each other, of the responsibilities and require- 
ments of the profession, and of the proper method of ob- 
serving and investigating disease, conveyed in language 
at once forcible, dignified, and impressive. No one can 
rise from its perusal without sensibly feeling how much 
he has been instructed, and how far short he falls of the 
standard laid down by its distinguished author. It may 
be stated, as a remarkable fact, that the work covers the 
whole ground of medical education, and that it comprises 
every topic respecting medical reform so zealously, but 
indiscreetly, urged upon the consideration of the Ameri- 
ican Medical Association, at every returning meeting of 
that body. 

In 1832, Dr. Drake published " a Practical Treatise on 
the History, Prevention, and Treatment of Epidemic 
Cholera, " which was then desolating Cincinnati and the 
Western States. The work, forming a duodecimo volume 
of nearly two hundred pages, was designed both for pro- 
fessional and general use, and comprised an excellent 
and graphic account of that formidable malady ; but it 
does not seem to have been well received, nor did it, I think 
add anything to the author's reputation. From the fact 
that much of it had been composed, and published in the 
Western Journal of the Medical and Physical Sciences, 
before he had witnessed the disease, it failed to inspire 



48 



public confidence, and fell, in some degree, still-born from 
the press. 

Two years after the publication of this treatise, he an- 
nounced, as in progress of preparation, a work on 
"Anatomy, Physiology, and Hygiene," as a text-book 
for schools and colleges. The object was to promote the 
popular study of this branch of science, and to pourtray 
the pernicious effects of mere mental culture, without 
proper physical training. Some months after the an- 
nouncement appeared he published a specimen of the 
style and arrangement of the book, and this was the last 
of it ; for his leisure never permitted him to complete it. 
Some years after this he announced his intention of pub- 
lishing a '-Treatise on General Pathology," as a text- 
book for his pupils; but this also, for a similar reason, was 
never issued. The fact is that all his thoughts and affec- 
tions were engaged upon his great work, and he regarded 
every thing else as of subordinate importance. 

In 1842, Dr. Drake published, in the sixth volume of 
the Western Journal of Medicine and Surgery, a paperon 
the "Northern Lakes as a Summer Resort for Invalids of 
the South," which at the time attracted much attention 
from the medical and public press. The article, which 
had been previously read as an introductory address to his 
course of lectures in the University, was designed to illus- 
trate the advantages offered, in the hot season, by our nor- 
thern lakes, as a residence, to the people of the south, 
and was founded, mainly, upon his own observations 
made the precedir.g summer in a professional tour of two 
months. It abounds in beautiful and graphic delineations 
of the wild and romantic scenery of these great inland 
seas, of the towns and villages wh ; ch stud and embellish 
their banks, of the nature of the climate, the productions 
of the surrounding country, the battle scenes of the late 
war with Great Britain, and the character and mode of 
life of the inhabitants, themselves a subject of study for 



49 



the painter, the poet, and the philosopher. There are 
few tracts, of the same size, in the English language on 
the subject of travel, which contain so vivid, gorgeous, 
and life-like an account of the countries to which they 
relate. Nothing seems to have escaped the observation 
of the author. At one time his mind is dazzled and 
almost bewildered by a vast, dark, and impenetrable 
forest ; at another, by the silvery and unruffled surface of 
a broad and unfathomable lake, reflecting the variegated 
and fantastic tints of the sky, or bearing upon its bosom 
the mighty steamboat, and the canoe of the adventurous 
Indian, the Canadian trapper, or the holy and self-deny- 
ing missionary; now, by some lofty and majestic cliff, 
rearing its head into the clouds, and serving as a monu- 
ment of the works of God ; and anon, by the bewitching 
beauties of the setting sun, as his rays sport upon the 
heavens above, or paint, in all the gorgeous colors of the 
rain-bow, his image upon the waters below. 

The latest of the minor productions of Dr. Drake's pen 
was a small volume of "Discourses," delivered, by appoint- 
ment, before the Cincinnati Medical Library Association, 
on the 9th and 10th of January, J 852. It is comprised in 
a duodecimo volume of ninety-three pages, and is divided 
into two parts, r the first of which treats of the early medical 
times in Cincinnati, and the other of medical journals and 
libraries. Few medical men, indeed few men of any pro- 
fession, will rise from the perusal of this unpretending 
little volume without feeling that they have been both 
interested and instructed. The first part, giving an ac- 
count of the pioneer physicians of the "Queen of the 
West," and of the prominent men and scenery of that 
early period, possesses, in my opinion, all the charm and 
interest of a romance, in which the lamented author, while 
he exhumes his predecessors and cotemporaries, and 
places them, in life-like colors, before the eyes of his rea- 
deis, forms a prominent and conspicuous feature. His 

7 



50 



feelings were evidently deeply imbued with the spirit of 
the subject, and he has treated it in a style and manner of 
which no other man, either at Cincinnati or elsewhere in 
the West, is capable. It is replete with the characteris- 
tics of a man of feeling and genius. His similes and 
illustrations are so striking and forcible, that, in perusing 
this part of the book, the reader imagines himself in the 
veritable presence of the men and |things which he deli- 
neates, and which pass, as in a moving picture, before 
him, even to the little Chickasaw pony, and the horrible 
witches, which at that early day still infested the 
neighborhood, and tormented the poor inhabitants ! I 
doubt whether there is within the same compass of the 
"Pioneers," that most delightful romance of James 
Fenimore Cooper, so great an amount of powerful and 
graphic delineation of character, with so much true, ar- 
tistic coloring. 

On the occasion on which this address was delivered 
he looked around in vain for some of those professional 
brethren, whom, at the commencement of his career, nearly 
fifty years before, he had been in the habit of meeting in 
the sick-room and at the social board. They had long 
since been removed from the busy scenes of life, and many 
of those who immediately succeded them, had shared a 
similar fate. "Like the living forms of an old geological 
era, they have," says the speaker, "become extinct, yet, 
*is occurs with some species in geology, an individual has 
run into the later epoch, to mingle with its new and more 
perfect inhabitants. Of the little band behind the veil, I 
am the sole survivor ; a sort of contingent remainder, be- 
queathed to the present generation, for any purpose to 
which so small a legacy may be applicable. For this length 
of days, I should humble myself before the Father of Life ; 
but I may further manifest my gratitude by rescuing from 
oblivion the names of those who were my predecessors, 
and my compeers of that by-gone age." 



51 



At the close of the discourse he remarks : "I have thus 
given you some account of our past, — of the first third 
part of the life-time of our city profession. It was then 
in its infancy, and the foot-prints of childhood soon grew 
dim. Yet, if possible, this should not be allowed to fade 
quite away. Under this sentiment, I have used a little the 
chisel of Old Mortality; and feel that I have but discharged 
a duty, which, at all times, the present owes to the past ; 
and the members of a generous profession to each other. 
Having been pars minima of what I have described, the 
verity of history required that I should not exclude my- 
self. # # # # Every epoch of life should be allowed 
to illustrate itself. You yourselves will successively fol- 
low on. # * * At whatever age you may be gathered 
to your fathers, many of your plans will be left unfinished. 
I pray that the time may be far off; and, still more, that 
when it comes, each of you may be able, in faith, to lay 
hold of the cheering declaration of the inspired apostle — 
"Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord : they rest 
from their labors, and their works do follow them." 

The second discourse exhibits an account of the origin 
and influence of medical periodical literature; and the 
benefits of public medical libraries. Time does not permit 
me to analyse it. It abounds in interesting and striking 
passages, and presents a full history of the periodical 
literature of the medical profession, both in America and 
Europe. At the close of it he exhorts his associates to 
constancy and perseverance in the enterprise thus auspi- 
ciously begun, and winds up with this eloquent passage: 
"The causes of failure generally lie in our own weakneses, 
of which the greatest is the want of unfaltering con- 
stancy. Holding on to the end in any laudable enterprise, 
is, with few exceptions, to achieve a triumph. I hope, 
and feel, and believe, that we shall steadily hold on ; and 
thus, when some young student , now sitting thoughtful 
and silent in our midst, shall, with age and tottering foot- 



52 



steps, follow the mortal remains of the last of us to the 
grave, he will say to the physicians of another generation, 
then assembled around : "Carry forward the noble work 
which they began, make it better than you found it, and 
then hand it on to posterity." 

The "Discourses" are dedicated to that accomplished 
gentleman, finished scholar, and eloquent teacher, Dr. 
Dickson, Professor of Medicine in the College at Charles- 
ton, South Carolina. 

But the most splendid exhibition of his genius is in his 
work on the Diseases of the Interior Valley of North 
America, an enduring monument of his industry, his re- 
search, and his ability. Upon this production, which, 
unfortunately, he did not live to complete, he spent many 
of the best and riper years of his life. As early as 1322, 
in an appeal to the physicians of the Southwest, he an- 
nounced his intention of preparing it, and solicited the 
cooperation of his professional brethren. His object, as 
stated in his circular, was to furnish a series of essays 
upon the principal diseases of this region of America, 
derived from his own observation and from that of his 
friends, and forming, when completed, a national work. 
Various circumstances conspired to delay the appearance 
of the work. The author's time, in the winter season, 
was much occupied in teaching, and in matters growing 
out of his official relations. Medical schools were 
obliged to be erected, fostered, and protected. Besides, 
he was the editor of a medical journal, to the pages of 
which he was often the chief contributor ; and he was also 
frequently compelled to deliver public addresses, which 
consumed much of his leisure. His facility, in this re- 
spect, was too well known in the community, to permit 
him to remain unoccupied. The objects concerning which 
he was called upon to address his fellow-citizens were 
often of a benevolent character, and he had too much 
good nature to resist them, however much they might en- 



53 

croach upon his more legitimate pursuits and the great 
aim of his life. 

In 1837, fifteen years after the publication of his circu- 
lar, he found, for the first time, sufficient leisure to enter 
vigorously upon the collection of materials for his long 
contemplated work. In the summer of this year, accom- 
panied by his two daughters, he visited a portion of the 
South for that purpose, during a tour of about three 
months. In 1843, he made a second tour, embracing 
Louisiana, Florida, Mississippi, Alabama, and the Gulf of 
Mexico; and subsequently he explored the interior of 
Kentucky, Tennessee, the two Carolinas, Virginia, West- 
ern Pennsylvania, New York, Illinois, Indiana, Michigan, 
Iowa, Wisconsin, Missouri, the great Lakes, and Canada. 
Wherever he went his fame preceded him, and he was 
kindly received by his professional brethren, many of 
whom vied with each other to show him attention and 
hospitality. It was during his absence upon these mis- 
sions, which he performed with the zeal of an apostle of 
science, that he wrote those numerous and interesting 
traveling editorials, as he styled them, for the Western 
Journal of Medicine and Surgery. These epistles, which 
form so conspicuous a feature of that periodical during 
the time referred to, were usually descriptive of the man- 
ners, habits, and diseases of the people among whom he 
wandered, of the climate, scenery, and productions of the 
country, and, in short, of whatever seemed, at the moment, 
to strike his fancy, or interest his mind. 

The materials thus collected were gradually digested 
and arranged, and finally presented to the profession, in 
the summer of 1850, under the elaborate title of "A Sys- 
tematic Treatise, Historical, Etiological, and Practical, 
on the Principal Diseases of the Interior Valley of North 
America, as they appear in the Caucasian, African, Indian, 
and Esquimaux Varieties of its Population." The work, 
the first volume of wjiich only has yet appeared, is illus- 



54 



trated by numerous charts and maps, designed and en- 
graved at great expense, and was printed and published 
at Cincinnati under the author's immediate supervision. 
A second volume, the composition of which was nearly 
completed at the time of his decease, will be issued during 
the ensuing summer, under the care of a competent edi- 
tor, and will be entirely devoted to subjects on practical 
medicine. The two together will constitute a monument 
of the genius and industry of their author, as durable as 
the mountains and the valleys, whose medical history they 
are designed to pourtray and illustrate. The toil and 
labor expended upon their production afford a happy 
exemplification of what may be accomplished by the well- 
directed and persistent efforts of a single individual, un- 
aided by wealth, and unsupported by the patronage of his 
own profession. 

It was originally the intention of Dr. Drake to comprise 
his work in two volumes ; but as he progressed with the 
elaboration of his materials he found that he should have a 
sufficiency for another ; which, now, that he is dead, will, 
of course, never be completed. The treasure remains, 
but the key wherewith to unlock it is gone. 

It is to be regretted that the first seven hundred pages 
of the first volume were not published by themselves, 
apart from the matter which relates to the subject of 
febrile diseases, and with which they have no particular 
affinity. The arrangement was an unfortunate one, and 
is calculated to impair the sale of this portion of the trea- 
tise, which is better adapted to the taste and appreciation 
of such men as Humboldt and Malte-Brun, than to those 
of the medical profession, who seldom, at least, in this 
country, patronize works not strictly practical. 

Every where at home the work recieved the most fav- 
orable commendation. All concurred in pronouncing it a 
performance of stupendous labor, and not a few of the 
leading journals declared that it was the most original 



55 



production that our country had yet furnished. One of 
the most beautiful and appreciative notices of it appeared, 
soon after its publication, in the Daily Louisville Journal, 
from the pen of my colleague, Professor Yandell. Dr. 
Stille, Chairman of the committee on Medical Literature, 
alluded to it in terms of high commendation in his report 
to the American Medical Association, at their meeting at 
Cincinnati, in May, 1850. Abroad its appearance was 
hailed with similar feelings. The British and Foreign 
Medico- Chirurgical Review, one of the ablest and most 
discriminating periodicals of the day, published a long 
and highly flattering notice of it. The veteran philosopher, 
Humboldt, to whom my colleague, Professor Silliman, 
took a copy, expressed his great delight at the work, and 
regarded it as a real treasure. 

It would be premature to predict what estimate will be 
placed upon his works by posterity. That they will al- 
ways be regarded as among the most valuable contribu- 
tions of the nineteenth century, so prolific in noble pro- 
ductions, will not be doubted by any one at all familiar 
with the character of their contents. Truth is eternal, 
and whatever of this sublime essence they contain must 
be transmitted from one generation to another so long as 
man remains a civilized being, and possesses the faculty of 
communicatiug knowledge. Based as they are upon the ob- 
servation of nature, and the just interpretation of her laws, 
they must always retain an ever-green beauty and fresh- 
ness. They may become musty upon the shelf, the leaves 
may become stained, and their cover may become tarnished 
by age, yet will the student always find in them a never- 
failing source of instruction and enjoyment. Their author, 
like his illustrious name-sake, has performed a voyage of 
circumnavigation, which future scientific navigators may 
improve and extend, but which they must always follow 
as their chart and guide. Posterity will not fail to award 



56 



him the enviable title of " Pioneer-Father of Medicine " 
of the Great Interior Valley of North America. 

The works of Hippocrates, composed more than two 
thousand years ago, are as fresh to-day, and as much ad- 
mired for their fidelity and truthfulness, as they were 
when they left the hands of the master-spirit that evoked 
them into existence. They have been translated into 
every language of Europe, and no one can read them with- 
out being sensible that the stock of his knowledge has 
been amplified and improved. The works of the American 
Hippocrates will be equally indestructible. Like his great 
prototype, he gathered their materials from the deep re- 
cesses, as well as from the surface of nature, and sub- 
jecting them to the plastic powers of his genius, he 
moulded them into a beautiful and harmonious whole, 
which proudly challenges our admiration and our grati- 
tude. He has inlaid every line, and every sentence, and 
every paragraph with the skill of an artist, and the finish 
of an accomplished writer ; his style is always clear and 
forcible, his language strong and pointed, his reasoning 
philosophical, his deductions just and logical, his arrange- 
ment of topics easy and natural. His composition, if not 
a model of elegance, abounds in examples of strong Anglo- 
Saxon vigor, which must strike and impress every sensible 
reader. 

In studying the treatises of these two extraordinary 
men, one is sensibly struck with the similarity of the man- 
ner of their production. Both traveled extensively in 
their respective countries in quest of material for their 
works, both were close observers of nature, both are clear 
and forcible delineators of disease. Many of the events 
of the life of Hippocrates are involved in obscurity and 
fable. From some statements, however, contained in his 
treatises, it appears that he spent much of his time in 
travel, residing now at one place, and then at another, 
practising his profession, and studying the topography, 



57 



climate, and diseases of the regions which he visited. In 
this manner he accumulated that rich store-house of facts 
which have transmitted his name to the present times, and 
which have laid the foundation, broad and deep, of medi- 
cal science. The countries which he specially visited 
were Thrace, Athens, Delos, andThessaly; but he pene- 
trated many other regions, and it is generally supposed 
that he spent some time in Macedonia, in attendance upon 
the court of Archelaus. 

The plan pursued by Drake was, in many respects, 
similar. He carried his perambulations, however, much 
further than Hippocrates, embracing a greater range and 
diversity of the human race, of climate, and diseases. We 
have already enumerated the names of the states and ter- 
ritories which he traversed in search of material for his 
work, 

Other points of resemblance are to be found between 
these great men. Both were bold practitioners. Hip- 
pocrates laid much stress upon diet in acute diseases, and 
bled freely in cases of extreme pain and inflammation ; 
sometimes opening two veins at once, to produce speedy 
fainting. Drake was a firm believer in the use of the 
lancet in the treatment of all acute inflammatory affec- 
tions ; his teachings upon this subject are not forgotten 
by his pupils, and all his friends know what confidence he 
placed in this remedy. Both practised Surgery. The 
practice of Hippocrates, in conformity with the times in 
which he lived, consisted of a few of the more simple pro- 
cesses of the art, as phlebotomy, cupping, and the applica- 
tion of the actual cautery ; Drake, on the other hand, per- 
formed some of the more nice and delicate operations. 
We have already seen that he possessed more than com- 
mon skill as an oculist. 

The works of Hippocrates were collected and published 
after his death by his daughter. Drake issued one 
volume, but left the remainder incomplete, to be edited 

8 



58 



and published as a posthumous treatise. The works of 
great men would seem to resemble great cities, being al- 
ways unfinished. 

But while Drake resembled the father of physic in 
these respects he was unlike him in others. Hippocrates 
was descended from the iEsculapian family, under whose 
auspices and influence the medical school of Cos attained 
its high eminence and popularity. Drake, on the other 
hand, was the son of a poor, illiterate husbandman, whose 
ancestry, as far as it could be traced, was never distin- 
guished for any achievements in medicine, law, divinity, 
politics, or arms. By the mother's side, Hippocrates was 
descended from Hercules; the mother of Drake had no 
such genealogy ; all she could boast was that she was a 
good house-wife, and a kind-hearted, Christian woman. 
Hippocrates was rich ; Drake was poor ; the former pos- 
sessed great scholastic advantages ; the latter none ; the 
one was educated early in life; the other comparatively late; 
Hippocrates enjoyed thejbenefit of the fame of his ances- 
tors ; it stimulated him, and brought him business ; Drake, 
on the contrary, was the architect of his own fortune, and 
was obliged to depend for his advancement upon his own 
exertions. 

I am not aware that Dr. Drake ever engaged in any 
purely literary composition, or that he ever contributed 
any thing to the literary periodical press, beyond some 
addresses and reports. For such pursuits he had no time, 
whatever might have been his fitness and inclination. 
Nor had he much leisure for indulging his taste in mis- 
cellaneous reading. Every moment of his time was occu- 
pied in lecturing to his pupils, in writing upon scientific 
subjects, and in laboring for the advancement of his pro- 
fession, or the cause of morality and benevolence. 

To his other accomplishments he added that of a poet. 
Several of his pieces, composed during the hours of re- 
laxation from his professional pursuits, possess much 



59 



beauty and sweetness. They generally partook either 
of the Im.TiOrous, or of the solemn and pathetic. His 
"Parting Song," sung to the tune of "Auld Lang Syne'" 
at the anniversary supper of the Ohio Stale Medical 
Society, at their meeting at Columbus, in January, 1835, 
and published in the eighth volume of the Western Journal 
of the Medical and Physical Sciences, is an ode of much 
beauty and feeling, and elicited the warmest applause at 
the time. It exerted the happiest effect upon every mem- 
ber present. 

Dr. Drake was a man not of one, but of many charac- 
teristics. His very look, manner, step and gesture were 
characteristic ; they were the outward signs of the pecu- 
liar nature within ; his conversation, his voice, and modes 
of expression were characteristic; all tending to stamp 
him, in the estimation and judgment of the beholder, as 
an extraordinary personage. But there was one feature 
which jutted out, prominently and conspicuously, above 
and beyond the rest, and which served, in an eminent de- 
gree, to distinguish him from all the men of my profession 
I have ever known. This was intensity, intensity of 
thought, of action, and of purpose. This feeling, to 
which he was indebted for all the success which marked his 
eventful career, exhibited itself in all the relations of life ; 
in his extraordinary devotion to his family, his attachments 
to his friends, his unfaltering Jove for his profession, in his 
interest in the cause of temperance, in his lectures before 
his pupils in the University, in his writings, his debates, 
and his controversies. No apathy or lukewarmness ever 
entered his mind, or influenced his conduct, in any scheme 
which had for its object the welfare of his species, the 
promotion of science, or the improvement of the human 
intellect. His temperament was too ardent to permit him, 
had he otherwise felt so inclined, to be an idle and uncon- 
cerned spectator of the world around him. It was hot, 



60 



and positive, like the pole of an electric battery, intense, 
ever restive, always doing. 

It was this attribute of his mind which would have made 
him great and distinguished in any walk he might have 
chosen. He had talent andintellectenough, had he wished 
it, to have shone in the Senate, adorned Ihe bar, or made 
a great pulpit orator. I have often thought that he had 
mistaken his profession, and that he ought to have been 
a politician. He might have made a great Secretary of 
State ; for he had the astuteness of a Webster, the sub- 
tilty of a Calhoun, and the indomitable energy of a Benton. 

His mind was quick, grasping, far-seeing ; he acquired 
knowledge with great facility , sometimes almost intui- 
tively, and readily perceived the relations and bearings of 
things. Embued with the true spirit of the Baconian phil- 
osophy, he delighted in tracing effects to their causes, and 
in unravelling the mysteries of human science and human 
knowledge. He was a keen observer, not only of pro- 
fessional matters, with which his daily studies brought him 
into more immediate contact, but of society and the world 
at large. Added to all this, he had a retentive memory, 
extraordinary powers of analysis, profound ratiocination, 
and great originality, with industry and perseverance sel- 
dom combined in the same individual. He possessed, in 
short, all the attributes of a great and commanding intel- 
lect, capable of vast exploits, and the accomplishment of 
great designs. His executive powers were extraordinary. 

No where did this intensity exhibit itself in a more strik- 
ing manner, or in a greater degree, than in the lecture- 
room. It was here, surrounded by his pupils, that he dis- 
played it with peculiar force and emphasis. As he spoke 
to them, from day to day, respecting the great truths of 
medical doctrine and medical science, he produced an 
effect upon his young disciples, such as {ew teachers are 
capable of creating. His words dropped hot and burning 
from his lips, as the lava falls from the burning crater; 



61 



enkindling the fire of enthusiasm in his pupils, and carry- 
ing them away in total forgetfulness of everything, save 
the all-ahsorbing topic under discussion. They will never 
forget the ardor and animation which he infused into his 
discourses, however dry or uninviting the subject ; 
how he enchained their attention, and how, by his skill 
and address, he lightened the tedium of the class-room. 
No teacher ever knew better how to enliven his auditors, 
at one time with glowing bursts of eloquence, at another 
with the sallies of wit, now with a startling pun, and anon 
with the recital of an apt and amusing anecdote; elicit- 
ing, on the one hand, their admiration for his varied intel- 
lectual riches, and, onthe other, their respect and venera- 
tion for his extraordinary abilities as an expounder of the 
great and fundamental principles of medical science. His 
gestures, never graceful, and sometimes eminently awk- 
ward; the peculiar incurvation of hi$ body; nay, the very 
drawl in which he frequently gave expression to his ideas; 
all denoted the burning fire within, and served to impart 
force and vigor to every thing which he uttered from the 
rostrum. Of all the medical teachers whom I have ever 
heard, he was the most forcible and eloquent. His voice 
was remarkably clear and distinct, and so powerful that, 
when the windows of his lecture-room were open, it could 
be heard at a great distance. He sometimes read his 
discourse, but generally he ascended the rostrum without 
note or scrip. 

His earnest manner often reminded me of that of an old 
and venerable methodist preacher, whose ministrations I 
was wont to attend in my early boyhood. In addressing 
the Throne of Grace, he seemed always to be wrestling 
with the Lord for a blessing upon his people, in a way 
so ardent and zealous as to inspire the idea that he was 
determined to obtain what he asked. The same kind of 
fervor was apparent in our friend. In his lectures he 
seemed always to be wrestling with his subject, viewing 



62 



and exhibiting it in every possible aspect and relation, 
and never stopping until, like an ingenious and dexterous 
anatomist, he had divested it, by means of his mental 
scalpel, of all extraneous matter, and placed it, nude, and 
life-like, before the minds of his pupils. 

With abilities so transcendent, manners so ardent and 
enthusiastic, and a mind so well stored with the riches of 
medical science, Dr. Drake ought to have been universal- 
ly popular as a teacher; nevertheless, such was not the 
fact. First course students often complained that his lec- 
tures were abstruse, in a degree wholly beyond their com- 
prehension ; that they could not follow his reasoning, or 
argumentation, and that, despite their best directed ef- 
forts, they were unable to derive much profit. The more 
advanced members of his classes, on the contrary, never 
experienced any such trouble; they felt the deepest in- 
terest in every thing that he uttered, and never failed to 
look upon him as a most able and instructive teacher. To 
account for this discrepancy it is necessary to state that 
Dr. Drake's method of instruction differed materially from 
that of most of his cotemporaries, both in this country 
and in Europe. Instead of beginning his course with the 
practical, every-day details of his department, he always 
devoted the first six weeks to the inculcation of general 
principles, deeming a knowledge of them of paramount 
importance to every student of medicine. This he al- 
ways regarded as the philosophical part of the course, and 
he spared no efforts to place it prominently before the 
minds of his pupils. In doing this he was fully conscious 
of the difficulty under which he labored, and often la- 
mented, in bitter strains, the deficiencies, on the part of 
his classes, which prevented them from appreciating his 
instruction. He saw how little many of the youth who 
resort to our lecture-rooms are prepared, by ther habits 
and education, to profit by such a mode of teaching; and 
yet he could not, durst not, in conformity with the dictates 



G3 



of his conscience and judgment, pursue any other. He 
would rather be unpopular with a portion of his classes 
than sacrifice duty and principle, or deviate from the 
standard which he had adopted as the rule and guide of 
his conduct in the lecture-room. 

His fluency and facility of language gave him great ad- 
vantage as a public debater. To his ability as a profound 
reasoner, he added subtilty of argument, quickness at rep- 
artee, and an impassioned tone and style, which rarely 
failed to carry off the palm in any contest in which he was 
engaged. During his sojourn in Philadelphia in 1830-31, 
Broussaisism, then so fashionable in that city, formed the 
subject of discussion before the Philadelphia Medical So- 
ciety. Being a member, he was induced to take part in the 
debate against the doctrine, while Dr. Jackson, the pres- 
ent Professor of the Institutes of Medicine in the Univer- 
sity of Pennsylvania, and himself no mean speaker, ar- 
rayed himself on the opposite side. The discussion, which 
had been in progress for several evenings, waxed warm- 
er and warmer, and excited universal interest among the 
members and visiters. Dr. Drake had the floor, and had 
already made a brilliant effort, when, suddenly stopping, 
he exclaimed, in a loud voice, and with peculiar emphasis, 
addressing himself to the chairman, the distinguished Dr. 
Condie, "Sir, is it not so ?" The effect was electric. 
The worthy dignitary, unconscious apparently of what he 
was doing, sprang upon his feet, exclaiming, "Yes sir, I 
believe it is," to the great amusement of every one present. 

Dr. Drake always manifested extraordinary interest in 
the moral training of medical pupils. Sensible of the 
temptations which constantly beset their path, and allure 
them from their duty, he took special pains at the opening 
of every session of the different schools with which he was, 
from time to time, connected, to point out to them their 
proper position, and to warn them of their danger. As a 
means of promoting this object, as well as of advancing 



64 

the respectability of the profession, he delivered, while 
st professor in the Cincinnati College, for several winters, 
a series of Sunday morning dicourses to the students of 
that institution, on medical ethics, the morale of the pro- 
fession, and the virtues and vices of medical men, embra- 
cing their duties to their patients, to the community, and 
towards each other. These addresses were usually at- 
tended by large numbers of the citizens of Cincinnati, and 
exerted a wide and happy influence upon the youths for 
whom they were more especially prepared. Their pub- 
lication would, I doubt not, be well received by the pro- 
fession. 

In this University, as was before stated, he interested 
himself greatly in promoting the cause of temperance 
among the students; and, as a means of religious improve- 
ment, he was in the habit, for many winters, of joining such 
of them as felt an interest in the subject, at a Sunday 
morning prayer meeting. In a word, he was ever ready 
with his advice and kindly offices, often affording aid and 
comfort to those who, in the absence of their parents and 
guardians, stood in need of a counsellor and friend. 

He had a decided taste for the society of the young 
men of his profession, and always evinced a deep interest 
for their prosperity. The instances were not few in which 
he labored to advance the welfare of young men, some of 
whom have since risen to deserved distinction. It was 
his lot, especially in the earlier periods of his life, to have 
numerous private pupils, several of whom he educated 
gratuitously, at the same time treating them with true 
parental regard and tenderness. As a public teacher in 
the different schools with which he was connected, he 
aided in educating several thousand young men, and fitting 
them for the practical and responsible duties of their pro- 
fession. The seed thus sown has brought forth much 
good fruit, the happy effects of which will be felt in future 
generations. 



65 



His own standard of medical knowledge was of the 
most elevated nature. No one understood better than he 
the importance of a thorough education, and of a well 
disciplined mind. His own early deficiencies, ever pre- 
sent, and ever-recurring, had made an impression upon 
him, which nothing could efface. His occupation as a 
teacher of medicine had brought him, for years, in daily 
contact with men and youths, who were not only destitute 
of preliminary education, but absolutely, from the want of 
opportunity, and mental capacity, utterly incapable of 
acquiring any. This state of things, so prevalent and 
deplorable, he often lamented to his friends and colleagues, 
while he never failed, on all proper occasions, to assail it 
in his writings and prelections. The difficulty under 
which a teacher labors in imparting instruction to such 
pupils, and preparing them for the successful exercise 
of their high and responsible duties, as practitioners, can 
be more easily imagined than described. His daily ex- 
perience in the lecture-room showed Dr. Drake how much 
of the good seed that is there sown falls upon barren soil; 
or how, instead of producing good fruit, it yields nothing 
but tares and thorns. Such was his feeling upon this 
subject that in numerous conversations he had with me 
respecting it, he often expressed himself as being almost 
ready to abandon teaching forever. Like many others, he 
perceived the remedy, but was unable, from the want of 
cooperation, to apply it. Poor as he was, he would a 
thousand times rather have lectured to a hundred intel- 
ligent, and well-prepared young men than to five hundred 
ignorant aud ill-prepared. His object was not the acqui- 
sition of gain, but the desire to be useful and profitable to 
those whom it was his duty to instruct in the great prin- 
ciples of the healing art. 

Of quackery, in all its forms and phases, he was an un- 
compromising enemy. He loved his profession and the 
cause of truth too well to witness, without deep solicitude, 

9 



66 



its impudent and unhallowed assaults upon the purity 
and dignity of medicine, considered as a humane, noble, 
and scientific pursuit. Hence, he permitted no suitable 
opportunity to pass without rebuking it, and holding up 
its advocates to the scorn and contempt of the public. In 
common with many of his brethren he deprecated its un- 
blushing effrontery, and regretted the countenance and 
support which it derives from a thoughtless clergy and an 
unscrupulous and unprincipled press. He saw that it 
was an evil of great magnitude, threatening the very exist- 
ence of our profession ; and, as a journalist, he deemed it 
his duty to bring the subject frequently and prominently 
before his readers, intreating their aid and cooperation 
in suppressing it. How well he served the cause of his 
profession, in this respect, those only who are acquainted 
with his labors are competent to judge. 

He was the founder of no new sect in medicine. For 
such an enterprise he had no ambition, even if he had 
been satisfied, as he never was, of its necessity. He found 
the profession, when he entered it, at the dawn of the 
present century, steadily advancing in its lofty and dig- 
nified career, refreshed, and, in some degree, renovated, 
by his immediate predecessors, and his chief desire was to 
ingraft himself upon it as an honest, conscientious, and 
successful cultivator. How well he performed the part 
which, in the order of Providence, he was destined to play, 
in this respect, the medical world is fully apprised. No 
man was more sensible than he of the imperfections and 
uncertaintiesof the healing art, and no one, in this country, 
in the nineteenth century, has labored more ardently and 
zealously for its improvement. For the systems of the 
schools no physician and teacher ever entertained a more 
thorough and immitigable contempt. He was an Eclectic 
in the broadest and fullest sense of the term. His genius 
was of too lofty and pervasive an order to be trammelled 
by any authority, however great, respectable, or influ- 



G7 



ential. Systems and system-mongers were alike despised 
by him, as they could not, in his judgment, be otherwise 
than dangerous in their practical bearings, and subversive 
of the best interests of science. It was Nature and her 
works that he delighted to study and to contemplate ; not 
that he regarded with indifference whatever was good 
and valuable in the productions of others, but simply be- 
cause he preferred to drink at the fountain instead of at 
the turbid stream. Like Hippocrates and Sydenham, he 
was a true observer of nature, and, we may add, a correct 
interpreter of her laws and phenomena ; his ambition was 
to be her follower during life, and at his death to leave a 
record, a true and faithful transcript, of the results of his 
investigations for the benefit of his brethren. 

Jn his intercourse with his professional friends his con- 
duct was a model. His code of ethics was of the purest 
and loftiest character. He was not only courteous and 
dignified, but eminently considerate of the rights of others ; 
his habits of punctuality were established early in life, 
and were never departed from. He made it a rule never 
to make a professional brother wait for him at a consulta- 
tion. When the appointed moment arrived, he was at 
his post, ready to enter upon the business before him. 
His deportment, on such occasions, towards his juniors, 
was always conciliatory, and, at times, even defTerential. 
It was, apparently, a study with him to make them feel 
at ease, that they might deliver their views and opinions 
freely, and without embarrassment. If he differed in sen- 
timent, concerning a point of pathology, diagnosis, or prac- 
tice, he expressed himself with the modesty of a gentle- 
man, and the kindly feelings of a professional brother. 
He was as free from hauteur and assumption as he was 
from affectation and pedantry, which no man more des- 
pised. 

The examination of his cases was conducted with 
great care and attention ; indeed, he seemed occasionally 



68 



to be over-minute and even tedious, spending a longer time 
over his patients than the exigencies appeared to require. 
His early habits of caution never forsook him at the bed- 
side of the sick. 

In his intercourse with his patients his conduct was 
regulated by the nicest sense of honor. No one under- 
stood better how to deport himself in their presence, or 
how to preserve inviolate their secrets. Hippocrates, 
who exacted an oath from his pupils never to reveal any 
thing that was confided to them by their employers, never 
more scrupulously observed the sanctity of the sick- 
chamber. Kind and gentle in his manners, he was as 
much the friend as the physician of his patients, not a 
few of whom made him their confidant and counsellor. The 
advice which he delivered under such circumstances was 
often of great service to the interested party, by whom it 
was never forgotten, owing to the earnest and solemn tone 
in which it was imparted. 

In the bestowment of his time and labor, he made no 
distinction between the rich and the poor; the latch-string 
of his heart was accessible to all. " The importance of 
the malady, and not the patient's rank or purse, was the 
measure of the attention which he paid the case. " It 
was his province, from his peculiar relations, to attend 
gratuitously, long after he had attained the most exalted 
rank in his profession, numerous widows and orphans, as 
well as the families of not a i'ew of his old friends, who 
had become poor in consequence of the vicissitudes of 
fortune. These labors, which encroached much upon his 
time and domestic enjoyments, he always performed with 
a willing heart, ever regarding their objects as specially 
entitled to his consideration and regard. 

I had great confidence in his professional acumen; I 
saw enough of him in the sick chamber to satisfy me that 
he had a most minute and thorough knowledge of disease, 
and of the application of remedial agents. There was 



69 



no one whom I would rather have trusted in my own case, 
or in that of a memher of my family; yet there were some, 
and some in our own profession, who pretended to have 
no confidence in his judgment or skill, who thought him a 
mere theorist, a bold, closet speculator, and an unspar- 
ing, reckless practitioner, whose treatment was altogether 
too spoliative, and, consequently, dangerous. Of the 
truth of such a charge, I never, during a familiar ac- 
quaintance with him of many years, had any evidence. 
The charge, doubtless, had its origin in jealousy and mis- 
conception. It can hardly be supposed that a man of such 
transcendent intellect, who had studied his profession so 
well, so anxiously, and so intensely, who had observed 
disease so long and so thoroughly, who had written so 
much, and delivered so many courses of lectures; in a 
word, who had devoted his whole life to the science of 
medicine and its kindred branches, should have been a 
bad or even an indifferent practitioner. The idea is too 
absurd to require serious refutation. It is abundantly dis- 
proved by the fact that those who knew him best had 
generally most confidence in him in this respect. Many of 
his most intimate friends in Cincinnati continued to em- 
ploy him up to the latest period of his life, as did also not 
a few of his earlier patients; persons who may be presum- 
ed to have been fully competent to appreciate his judg- 
ment and practical ability. He rarely gave a lecture in 
this University without, at the close of it, prescribing for 
five or six of his pupils. An hour was thus not unfre- 
quently spent every day of the week. 

Besides, he never lacked business; in the early part 
of his career his practice was large and laborious, and if, 
as he advanced in age, it became comparatively small, it 
was owing, not to a want of confidence on the part of the 
public, but to his frequent and protracted absence from 
Cincinnati; a circumstance wholly at variance, in every 
community, with the acquisition and retention of a large 



70 



family practice. Such a practice, in fact, especially as he 
grew older, he did not desire; it was incompatible both 
with his inclinations and the great object of his ambition, 
which was to teach medicine, and to compose a great and 
useful work on the diseases of the interior valley of North 
America. Business never forsook him at home or abroad; 
the numerous letters which he received from his profes- 
sional brethren and from patients at a distance, soliciting 
his advice in cases of difficulty and doubt, show in what 
estimation his science and skill were held by the public. 

His practice in acute inflammatory diseases was bold 
and vigorous. The lancet was his favorite remedy, and 
he drew blood freely and without stint in every case in 
which the symptoms were at all urgent or threatening, pro- 
vided the system was in a condition to bear its loss. 
Having attended, in early life, the lectures of Dr. Rush, 
the most eloquent and captivating teacher of medicine in 
his day, in this country, and a strenuous advocate of san- 
guineous depletion, he imbibed a strong prejudice in favor 
of this practice, which he retained to the latest period of 
his career. But it would be unjust to say that he employed 
the remedy without judgment or discrimination. If he 
bled freely he also knew when to bleed. No man had a 
better knowledge of the pulse and the powers of the 
heart. 

His conduct, in all the relations of life, was most ex- 
emplary. In his friendships, usually formed with much 
caution, he was devoted, firm, and reliable, as many who 
survive him can testify. His attachments were strong 
and enduring. Few men, as he himself declared to me 
only a ^ew months before his death, possessed so many 
ardent and faithful friends. His social qualities were re- 
markable. He loved his friends, enjoyed their society, and 
took great pleasure in joining them at the domestic board; 
where, forgetting the author and the teacher, he laid aside 
his " sterner nature, " and appeared in his true charac- 



71 



ter, plain and simple as a child, cheerful, amiable and en- 
tertaining. It was during such moments, which served to 
relax the cords of his mind, and fit it for the renewal of 
its labors, that he shone to most advantage. His conver- 
sational powers on such occasions, as well as in the draw- 
ing-room, although superior, were not equal. Like all 
great and busy men, he had his cares and annoyances, his 
hours of depression and despondency, his fits of absence 
and restlessness. 

We have stated that Dr. Drake had many warm, 
staunch, and admiring friends. It would be untrue to say 
that he had no enemies. He had too ardent and positive a 
temperament, too much ambition, too much intellect, to 
be altogether exempt from this misfortune, if such, indeed, 
it may be called. I assume, and I think the world's record 
abundantly confirms the conclusion, that no great, useful, 
or even truly good man was ever w r holly without enemies. 
Such an occurrence would be an anomaly in the history 
of human nature. It has been well observed by one who 
was himself great, and who occupied, for many years, no 
small space of the public eye, that "slander is the tax 
which a great man pays for his greatness.'' The more 
conspicuous his position the more likely will he be to have 
enemies, to assail and misrepresent his character. It is only 
the passive, the weak, the idle, and the irresolute who are 
permitted to pursue, unobserved and unmolested "the even 
tenor of their way." To this classour friend did not belong. 
His mission was a higher and a nobler one. He was des- 
tined, under the arrangements of Providence, to perform 
great deeds, and to be a great and shining light in his pro- 
fession, and it would have been just as impossible for him, 
in attempting to carry out these designs, to steer clear of 
enemies, as it was for the three great and illustrious states- 
men, whose loss has been so recently bewailed by a na- 
tion's tears, to fulfil their great mission, and live and die 
in peace with the men and parties whose interests, and 



72 



passions, and prejudices they were constantly obliged to 
assail and combat. 

But to the credit of Dr. Drake let it be said that he 
never wilfully wronged any human being. He was always 
just, always truthful, always conscientious. He never 
struck a blow where none had been struck before. Men 
who are fond of using harsh expressions have accused him 
of being captious, over-bearing, dictatorial. During an 
acquaintance, intimate and uninterrupted, of nearly twenty 
years, during most of which we were colleagues at Cin- 
cinnati and in this city, I never witnessed any exhibition 
calculated to confirm such an accusation. His official re- 
lations in this University, as my associates here can tes- 
tify, were of the most agreeable and harmonious nature. 
There was not a measure, intended to advance the pros- 
perity of the institution, proposed by his colleagues, or 
the Honorable Board of Trustees, that did not meet with 
his hearty concurrence and support. There was no one 
whose pen was more frequently and effectively employed 
in repelling the assaults of its enemies, in encouraging the 
lukewarm, and in cheering the friendly. 

His early associations in Medical schools, particularly 
in the Medical College of Ohio, his first and last love, 
were unfortunate, and exerted for a long time, if not, 
indeed, during the rest of his life, an unhappy influence 
upon his reputation as a quiet and peaceable man. Many 
of his colleagues were ordinary individuals, either wholly 
unfit for the discharge of the responsible duties assigned 
to them by the nature of their chairs, or, at all events, ill- 
calculated to aid in building up a great and flourishing 
school. Misconceptions, misrepresentations, and, finally, 
bitter and unrelenting quarrels were the consequence of 
this connection, which, from the attitude in which he was 
always placed as the prominent party, generally fell with 
severest effect upon Dr. Drake. Thus he was often made 
to occupy before the profession and the public a false po- 



73 



sition, and obliged to act a part which did not naturally 
belcng to him. It seems to have been a principle with 
him, at this period of his life, never to allow a charge utter- 
ed by an assailant against his character to pass unnoticed 
orunrebuked. So frequent were these missives that, at 
length, even some of his warmest and mostjntimate friends 
were disposed to look upon him as a bitter and unrelent- 
ing controversialist. Nothing, however, could have been 
more unjust. His great error was that he was morbidly 
sensitive, and that he permitted himself to be annoyed by 
every puff of wind that swept across his path. Baseness 
and malignity never entered into his character. In all his 
difficulties and troubles, growing out of his early profes- 
sional relations, I know not a solitary one in which he 
had not strict justice on his side. Nature and art had 
combined to give him powerful weapons, and no man 
better understood how to use them against the assaults of 
his enemies. 

Of all his early associates in the Medical College of 
Ohio, Dr. John D. Godman was almost the only one for 
whom he cherished any sincere respect, or who came up 
to the standard he had formed of what a colleague and a 
teacher ought to be. That standard was, perhaps, ca- 
priciously high, so elevated as to render it difficult for 
any but a favored few to attain it. Be this as it may, it 
was, I doubt not, the cause of many of the troubles in which 
he was so soon to be involved, and which fate, blind and 
ill-directed, seemed ever ready to recall and perpetuate. 
For Godman, his first colleague in the chair of Surgery in 
the Medical College of Ohio, rocked, like himself, in the 
cradle of poverty, deprived, like himself, of early educa- 
tional advantages, and set apart, like himself, for some me- 
chanical pursuit, he ever cherished the warmest friend- 
ship and the most tender regard. He was evidently a 
man after his own heart, pure, of lofty ambition, full of ge- 
nius and industry, and bent upon the achievement of great 

10 



74 



designs. How well he succeeded the history of his short, 
sorrowful, and not uneventful life bears abundant testi- 
mony. Compelled to work for nearly two years with only 
one lung for his daily bread, he performed, even while in 
this crippled and dying condition, an amount of labor 
which may well put to shame the puny and flickering at- 
tempts at support and reputation of the Young Physic of 
the present day, so vaunting, and yet so unproductive of 
useful and profitable results. Cut off at the age of thirty- 
seven, by a ruthless disease which never spares its vic- 
tim, he had acquired a character for purity of conduct, 
varied learning, and profound attainment as an anatomist 
and naturalist, as rare as it was extraordinary and won- 
derful. It seems as if nature had offered him as an ex- 
ample of what a man, supported by talents, industry, and 
singleness of purpose, may accomplish in the shortest 
time, under circumstances the most adverse, and under 
trials which, to ordinary mortals, appear insurmountable. 
Godman expired at Germantown, Pennsylvania, on the 17th 
of April, 1830. His friend was not unmindful of him after 
his death. In the fourth volume of his journal, he paid a 
beautiful and touching tribute to the memory of one who 
was, in every respect, worthy of his esteem and affection. 
Genius has its infirmities, as well as its weaknesses. 
The world, looking merely at the surface of a man's char- 
acter, without comprehending the machinery of his mind, 
and the motives and circumstances which impel it to ac- 
tion, is often incapable of appreciating his feelings, his 
sentiments, and his wants. The sun, although constant- 
ly emitting the same amount of light, is often obscured by 
clouds, which obstruct his rays, and impair his genial influ- 
ence. Man, true and faithful to his nature, cannot always 
smile ; his temper is often ruffled, and his mind is often 
overcast by sadness. He cannot be the same at all times, or 
to all men. Human nature is human nature in all classes 
and conditions; now serene and composed, now agitated by 



75 



storms and passions, approximating man, in the one case, 
to an angel, in the other to a fiend. In studying the 
character of men we should never lose sight of the fact 
that they are but men; nor forget the circumstances in 
which they are placed, and move, and have their being, 
nor the ends and designs which they aim and strive to 
accomplish. Dr. Drake had his foibles and even his faults; 
but it may be truly asserted that few men, engaged in the 
turmoil of a public life, were more free from the former 
or more exempt from the latter. Now that he is gone, 
let us forget both, and only remember his resplendent 
virtues. 

Dr. Drake never had a vice. His enemies cannot point 
to a single act of his life, in which there was the slight- 
est approximation to any exhibition of the kind. His 
moral character was cast in the finest and purest mould. 
He could not have been bad. His conscientiousness and 
love of approbation were too large to admit of it. The 
attachment and reverence which he cherished for his 
parents were opposed to every feeling of licentiousness 
and immorality. Their early training produced an im- 
pression upon his mind which neither time nor circum- 
stances could efface, but which steadily grew with his 
growth and strengthened with his strength. His conduct, 
in all the periods and phases of his life, was squared 
by the strictest rules of honesty, and by the nicest regard 
for the feelings and rights of others. Although he was long 
poor, he always paid his debts to the uttermost farthing. 
"Pay what thou owest" was with him a golden maxim. 

For public amusements he had not only no love, but 
they were eminently repulsive to his tastes and feelings. 
The impression made upon his tender mind at Mays 
Lick, by this species of life on parade and gala days, 
among his father's neighbors, was indelible. He never 
played a game of cards in his life; gambling and gamblers 
he alike detested* His whole career, in fact, from its 



76 



commencement to its close, was an exhibition of attach- 
ment to moral principle. His life was one of constant and 
untiring industry and exertion, exhausting meditation, 
and the most resolute self-denial. He never knew any 
thin£ of the luxury of the chase, or of trout-fishing. He 
might have read Isaak Walton's "Complete Angler," the 
"Contemplative Man's Recreation," or "Salmonia," or 
"Days of Fly-fishing," with a view of seeking refuge from 
ennui, or relaxation from his scientific labors; but never 
for the purpose of learning, much less practising, the art. 
In a word, he labored incessantly under the impulse of a 
lofty ambition, and under an intense desire to improve his 
profession and benefit mankind. 

We have said nothing, as yet, of Dr. Drake, as he 
appeared in his domestic relations, in the bosom of his 
own family, among his children and grand-children, and 
at his own hearth. It is no idle curiosity which prompts 
us to lift the veil of private life, and to look, for a 
moment, into the very caverns and recesses of the heart 
of our departed friend. We have already seen how fond 
he was of her who, for nearly twenty years, had shared 
his joys and his sorrows; how tenderly he lo^ed her, and 
how faithfully he cherished her memory after her death. 
His attachment to her never faltered ; it was deep, firm, 
and abiding, inrooted in the very fibres of his heart. It 
was sublime ! 

To say that he was a tender, devoted, and exemplary 
father would but ill express the truth ; he was more ; his 
love ran in the deepest and broadest channel. He idolized 
his children and watched over their interests and happiness 
with the care and solicitude with which the eagle watches 
over his young. His affection for them was omnipresent, 
and all-absorbing. The numerous letters which he ad- 
dressed to them during his long winter residences in this 
city, and during his travels in various sections of the 
Union in search of materials for his great work, to say 



77 



nothing of his frequent visits to Cincinnati, amply attest 
the truth of this remark. It seemed as if the caldron of 
his affection were constantly boiling over, and seeking 
vent in such missives. They were to him as winged 
messengers, bearing glad-tidings from his own heart to 
the hearts of his children and grand-children. His cor- 
respondence with the different members of his family 
would cover many volumes ; for it was not only frequent, 
but copious, extending often through many pages. His 
grand-children came in for a full share of this kind of 
intercourse, so honorable to the heart and head of this 
great and good man. Their birth-days never failed to be 
hailed by a letter, generally abounding in some witticism, 
some simple anecdote, or some good advice, conveyed in 
a plain, agreeable, and tender style, w T ell adapted to their 
comprehension. During his sojourn in our city, he paid 
them every winter not less than three or four visits, often 
lecturing twice, and, sometimes, even thrice a day, that 
he might get in advance of his course, and thus obtain 
the requisite time. He had not a colleague of whom he 
did not occasionally borrow an hour for this purpose. 

In connection with this branch of the subject may be 
mentioned a series of letters which Dr. Drake addressed 
to his children, a few years ago, while engaged in deliv- 
ering a course of medical lectures in this city. They 
extend over several hundred pages of manuscript, and 
have lately, since his death, been bound in a quarto 
volume, under the title of "Reminiscential Letters." I 
am sure that every one who peruses them will, like my- 
self, regard them as a most precious legacyjfrom a doting 
father to his devoted childred and grand-children. They 
recount, in glowing terms, and with a true Daguerreotype- 
likness, the deeds and scenes of his childhood and boyhood 
up to the time he entered Cincinnati as a student of that 
profession which he was destined so much to adorn and 
illustrate by his labors, his teachings, and his writings. 



78 



There is not an occupation incident to a new settlement 
in the West, or in which he was himself engaged, which 
he does not pourtray in these epistles in the most vivid 
and graphic manner. Had he been able to wield the 
pencil of a Cole, he could not have painted, in truer colors, 
the voyage of the first fifteen years of his monotonous 
but not uneventful life. A selection, by some judicious 
relative, or friend, of the deceased, would form a valuable 
contribution to our literature, especially for the young, 
whose minds could not fail to be benefitted and improved 
by its perusal. In point of charm and interest, in moral 
and religious tone, in filial reverence and devotion, in just 
and philosophical deduction, they are not surpassed by 
the beautiful Autobiography of Jean Paul, as it is exhibited 
in the life of that extraordinary man by Mrs. Lee, herself 
one of the most delightful of writers. 

The life of Dr. Drake was eminently eventful. No man 
that our profession has yet produced has led so diversified 
a career. He was, probably, connected with more medical 
schools than any individual that ever lived. It is 
rare that physicians interest themselves in so many public 
and professional enterprises as he did. His mind was of 
unlimited application. His own profession, which he 
served so well and so faithfully, was incapable of restrain- 
ing it ; every now and then it overleaped its boundaries, 
and wanderd off into other spheres. His career, in this 
respect, affords a remarkable contrast with that of medical 
men generally, whose pursuits furnish few incidents of 
public interest or importance. His mission to his pro- 
fession and to his age was a bright and happy one. No 
American physician has performed his part better, or left 
a richer savor along his life-track. 

But his life was not only eventful ; it was also eminently 
laborious. No medical man ever worked harder, or more 
diligently and faithfully; his industry was untiring, his 
perseverance unceasing* It was to this element of his 



73 



character, blended with the intensity we have described, 
that he was indebted for the success which so preeminently 
distinguished him from his professional co-temporaries. 
He had genius, it is true, and genius of a high order, but 
without industry and perseverance it would have availed 
him little in the accomplishment of the great aims and 
objects of his life. He seemed to be early impressed with 
the truth of the remark of Seneca : " Non est ad astra 
mollis a terris via. " He felt that he did not belong to 
that fortunate class of beings whose peculiar privilege it is 
to perform great enterprises without labor, and to achieve 
great ends without means. His habits of industry, formed 
in early boyhood, before, perhaps, he ever dreamed of the 
destiny that was awaiting him, forsook him only with his 
existence. His life, in this respect, affords an example 
which addresses itself to the student of every profession 
and pursuit in life, which the young man should imitate, 
and the old man not forget. 

There was one trait in his character of which I have not 
yet spoken, and which I approach with much diffidence. 
I allude to his humility. So largely did this enter into 
his conduct and character, that I cannot, for a moment, 
suppose that it was not real and genuine. From what I 
saw of it, in the different circumstances of his life, it 
appeared to me as if it had been deeply inlaid in his very 
constitution, and that it was, therefore, compelled, not 
unfrequently, to exhibit itself in his conduct and conver- 
sation. What corroborates this opinion is that in his 
"Reminiscential Letters," already more than once alluded 
to, he speaks of the low state of his pride. " That 
passion, " he remarks, "was, indeed, never strong; and, 
moreover, was counterpoised by a humility, which always 
suggested how far short I came of the excellence which 
ought to be attained. With these traits, he continues, if 
I had been born a slave, I should never have become a 
rebel : but conforming to my condition, and rendering 



80 



diligent service, have acquired the confidence of my 
master." 

Dr. Drake never visited Europe. In the many conver- 
sations which passed between us on this subject, he 
invariably assigned, as a reason for not going, his literary 
and scientific deficiencies, as if he feared to come in con- 
tact with his transatlantic brethren, whom he supposed to 
he so much more enlightened than himself. I never conld 
doubt the sincerity of his declaration. That he would 
have been a worthy representative of our profession 
abroad, none that knew him can doubt. 

He always had an humble estimate of his scientific 
labors. When the first volume of his great work was 
published, he was naturally very anxious as to the 
manner in which it w r ould be received by the profession. 
Almost the first notice of it that appeared was read in his 
presence at the meeting of the American Medical Asso- 
ciation at Cincinnati, in 1850, by Dr. Stille, chairman of 
the Committee on Medical Literature, and had the effect 
of completely overpowering him. He felt that the work 
was safe, and humility baptized his triumph in a flood of 
tears. 

The great defect in his character was restlessness, grow- 
ing, apparently, out of his ardent and impulsive tempera- 
ment, which never permitted him to pursue any subject 
very long without becoming tired of it, or panting for a 
change. His mind required diversity of occupation, just as 
the stomach, to be healthful, requires diversity of food. 
Hence, while engaged in the composition of his great 
work, he could not resist the frequent temptations that 
presented themselves to divert him from his labors. His 
delight was to appear before the public, to deliver a temper- 
ance address, to preside at a public meeting, or to make a 
speech on the subject of internal improvement, or the Bible 
or missionary cause. For a similar reason he stepped 
nut of his way to write his letters on Slavery, and his 



81 



Discourses before the Cincinnati Medical Library Asso- 
ciation. No man in our land could have done these things 
better, few, indeed, so well ; but, useful as they are, it is 
to be regretted that he undertook them, because they 
occupied much of his time that might, and, in the opinion 
of his friends, ought to, have been devoted to the com- 
position and completion of his great work, the ultimate 
aim and object of his ambition. Like Adam Clarke, he 
seemed to think that a man could not have too many irons 
in the fire, and the consequence was that he generally 
had the tongs, shovel, and poker all in at the same time. 

It was the same restless feeling that caused his frequent 
resignations in medical institutions. Had his disposition 
been more calm and patient, he would have been satisfied 
to identify himself with one medical school, and to labor 
zealously for its permanency and renown. In moving about 
so frequently, he induced people to believe that he was a 
quarrelsome man, who could not agree with his colle^nes, 
and whose ruling passion was to be a kind of autocrat in ev- 
ery medical faculty with which he was connected. But, 
while his own conduct gave coloring to such an idea, noth- 
ing could have been more untrue. 

But Dr. Drake was not merely a physician, a teacher, 
and an author. He was more ; he was a Christian, and a 
Christian from choice and conviction, not from motives of 
expediency and self-interest. A reverence for the Deity 
had been deeply implanted in his very constitution; and the 
pious teachings of his parents, in his early childhood, were 
never effaced from his mind. 

In 1840, he united himself in this city with St. Paul's 
church, then under the pastoral charge of that excellent 
and holy man, the late Rev. William Jackson. He 
had long contemplated such a step, and as the time ap- 
proached for its consummation he looked forward to the 
event with feelings of no ordinary satisfaction. His wish 
was to be brought into closer fellowship with his christian 

11 



82 



brethren, and to seal his affection for the church with the 
blood of a dying Savior. He was ever afterwards a faith- 
ful, consistent, and untiring attendant upon public wor- 
ship. Nor was he a less regular observer of the daily du- 
ties of private and family devotion. The charge of irre- 
ligion, sometimes urged against medical men, never re- 
ceived any confirmation from his character. 

His mind was deeply impressed with the evangelical 
truths of the gospel, and he could not contemplate, without 
serious apprehensions, the High Church movements and 
tendencies of the present day. He saw that Puseyism had 
taken deep root in the minds of many good people, and 
he considered it a sacred duty to aid, if possible, in coun« 
teracting what he regarded as its evil influences. So 
much did he have this subject at heart that ihe was in- 
duced, only a few years before his death, to discuss it, at 
some length, in the Philadelphia Episcopal Recorder, in a 
series of articles written with much judgment and ability. 
They appeared under the signature of a " Western Lay- 
man, " and attracted much attention at the time. At the 
period of his death, he was under an engagement to fur- 
nish a series of articles for a new Review, about to be es- 
tablished by the leaders of the " Low Church " party. 

Nearly all the early settlers of Mays Lick were baptists, 
and hence all his early ideas of Christian doctrine, wor- 
ship, and deportment were derived from that denomina- 
tion. He would probably have attached himself to that 
church, had he not been deterred by the fact that it has no 
written creed, and no system of government beyond the 
democracy of the congregation. When only six years 
of age, and when he was yet hardly able to read, a baptist 
catechism was put into his hands by the Rev. Mr. Wood, 
an old clergyman, of Washington, Kentucky. It opened 
with the doctrines of the Trinity, which so perplexed him 
that he ever afterwards retained a prejudice against all 



similar publications. The first Episcopal Church of Cin- 
cinnati was organized at his house. * 

He was well read in the Bible; and his acquaintance 
with theological literature was by no means inconsidera- 
ble. He was familiar with the tenets of the principal de- 
nominations which compose the Christian world ; and, 
while he was tolerant of other sects, he had a warm and 
decided leaning towards his own. 

Every thing relating to a distinguished man acquires an 
interest, which produces a desire to become acquainted 
with his personal history and appearance ; even to the 
most trifling circumstance. We wish to know how he 
looked, and walked, and talked ; how he deported himself 
in the social circle, in the drawing-room, and in the pres- 
ence of his friends and neighbors ; how he amused him- 
self, and spent his time ; how he studied ; and what means 
he employed to make himself just the man he was. The 
little sayings and doings of a great man are always ob- 
jects ofinterest, and frequently throw more light upon his 
real character than his public acts. Our interest in 
Socrates is heightened ten fold Irj our knowledge of 
Xantippe. We can almost forgive the sentence which con- 
demned him to swallow the fatal draught ; but we can 
hardly excuse the conduct of a wife who destroyed the 
domestic happiness of her husband. 

In regard to our friend, his personal appearance was 
striking and commanding. No one could approach him, 
or be in his presence, without feeling that he was in con- 
tact with a man of superior intellect and acquirement. 
His features, remarkably regular, were indicative of manly 
beauty, and were lighted up and improved by blue eyes of 
wonderful power and penetration. When excited by an- 
ger, or emotion of any kind, they literally twinkled in their 
sockets, and he looked as if he could pierce the very soul 
of his opponent. His countenance was sometimes staid 

* Rermniscential Letters. 



84 



and solemn ; but generally, especially when he was in the 
presence of his friends, it was radiant and beaming. His 
forehead, though not expansive, was high, weli-fashioned, 
and eminently denotive of intellect. The mouth was of 
moderate size, the lips of medium thickness, and the chin 
rounded off and well-proportioned. The nose was prom- 
inent, but not too large. The frosts of sixty-seven win- 
ters had slightly silvered his temples, but had made no 
other inroad upon his hair. He was nearly six feet high, 
rather slender, and well-formed. 

His power of indurance, both mental and physical, was 
extraordinary. He seemed literally incapable of fatigue. 
His step was rapid and elastic, and he often took long 
walks, sufficient to tire men much younger, and, appar- 
ently, much stronger than himself. He was an early riser, 
and was not unfrequently seen walking before breakfast 
with his hat under his arm, as if inviting the morning 
breeze to fan his temple and cool his burning brain. 

No examination was made of his brain after death. Had 
this organ been placed in the scale, its weight would have 
fallen far below that of the brain of Cuvier, and of Web- 
ster ; but if it could have been analysed by the chemist and 
the microscopist, its finer texture would have been found 
fully equal to that of either of these illustrious individuals. 
It is the mind that makes the man, and the structure, 
not the weight of the brain, that makes the mind. A 
person may have an enormous brain, and yet be an idiot; 
and, on the other hand, this organ maybe unusually small, 
and yet the intellect over which it presides be astonish- 
ingly great, and of the noblest quality. The engine of 
Dr. Drake's brain was, to borrow a not inappropriate ex- 
pression, of the finest manufacture, and our regret is 
that it cannot be put into some new hull for further service. 

His manners were simple and dignified ; he was easy 
of access, and eminently social in his habits and feelings. 
His dress, and style of living were plain and unostenta- 



85 



tious. During his residence in Cincinnati, previously to 
his connection with this University, his house was the 
abode of a warm but simple hospitality. For many years, 
no citizen of that place entertained so many strangers and 
persons of distinction. 

In politics he was a Whig, and never failed to exercise 
his elective franchise. During the presidential canvass of 
1840, in which his early friend, the late General Harri- 
son, himself at one time a student of medicine, was the 
Whig candidate, Dr. Drake evinced a deeper interest, and 
took a more active part, than he ever did before, or after- 
wards, in any contest of a similar kind. He was the ar- 
dent friend of rational liberty throughout the world ; and 
no man ever gloried more in the institutions of his country. 

He was naturally conscientious. A desire to execute 
every trust that was confided to him, promptly and faith- 
fully, formed a prominent trait in his character. He was 
always unhapyy, if, through neglect, inadvertence, or mis- 
fortune, he made a failure. This feeling pursued him 
through the whole of his life. A little incident, of which 
he himself has furnished the particulars, strikingly illus- 
trates the truth of this remark. One day, when hardly 
six years old, he was sent to borrow a little salt from one 
of the neighbors, an article which was then very scarce, 
and which cost at least twelve times as much then as now. 
It was a small quantity, tied up in a paper, which, when 
he was about half way home, tore, and out rushed the 
precious grains upon the ground. "As I write," says 
he, " nearly sixty years afterwards, the anguish which I 
felt at the sight seems almost to be revived. I had not 
then learned that the spilling of salt was portentous, but 
felt that it was a great present affliction. " * 

He was a man of extraordinary refinement. This 
feeling was deeply ingrafted in his constitution, and always 

* Reminiscential Letters. 



86 



displayed itself, in a marked degree, in the presence of the 
female sex. Although his parents were uncultivated 
persons, and hardly ever mingled in refined society, they 
cherished as high and pure an idea of the duty of good 
breeding as any people on earth. The principle of politeness 
was deeply rooted in both, and they never failed to practice 
it in their family and in their intercourse with the world. * 
An admiration for the female sex was one of the earliest 
sentiments developed in his moral nature. It swayed him 
through life, and continued to govern him to its close. 
" When that solemn event shall come, " says he, " I hope 
to see female faces around my bed. " — 

"And with a woman's hand to close 
My lids in death, and say — "Repose." 

His mode of living was peculiar, and, in the opinion of 
the world and some of his friends, parsimonious and 
eccentric. Nothing, however, could have been more 
erroneous. The affection of his brain, which ultimately 
destroyed him, and to occasional attacks of which he 
was for many years subject, compelled him to live dif- 
ferently from other men. The slightest indulgence at 
dinner invariably brought on an attack of cerebral op- 
pression, followed by an inability for useful mental and 
physical exertion ; and it was a knowledge of this fact, 
the result of ample experience, that induced him never 
to take any thing at this meal, except a cup of tea and the 
smallest quantity of vegetables ; frequently, indeed, 
nothing but a little pastry. At his breakfast and supper, 
however, he generally ate as heartily as any one. I allude 
to this subject, trivial as it may appear, and irrelevant as 
it may be to the true dignity of biography, because I wish 
to place my friend right befbre]this community, in whose 
midst he lived and toiled for so many long winters. 
The explanation is due to his memory, to his children, 

; ~* Reminiscential Letters. 



87 



and to his friends. Boarding houses and hotels were 
disagreeable to him ; he could find no congeniality at a 
public table, and in the noise and confusion of public 
apartments. He preferred his own room at the University, 
with his cracker and cup of tea, to the most splendid table 
in the State. For many years he found a congenial place 
and a hearty welcome at the houses of his friends. It 
was not to save and hoard up money that he thus lived ; 
for no man ever spent money more liberally, no one ever 
had a greater contempt for it. His late associates in this 
University, and a few friends in this city, who alone knew 
him thoroughly and truly, can best appreciate the force 
and truth of my remarks. 

To those who are engaged in scientific, literary, and 
educational pursuits, or in the practice of medicine, it will 
not be uninteresting to know that Dr. Drake was poor, and, 
until the last eight years of hislife, pecuniarily embarrassed. 
It was not until after his connection with this University 
that he began to lay up any thing from his earnings. His 
medical journal only brought him into debt. The first 
volume of his great work has sold slowly, and had not 
yielded him one dollar at the time of his death. Since 
that period his son-in-law, Alexander II. McGufFey, Esqr., 
has received, as his literary executor, two hundred and 
fifty dollars as the balance to the author's credit up to 
that time. This sum is not more than one tenth of what 
he paid for the maps alone, contained in the work, and 
engraved at his own expense. Nothing, in fact, that Dr. 
Drake ever undertook was pecuniarily profitable. He 
was not a man of the money-making character. He lost 
money by every enterprise in which he ever engaged. 
His aims were always so lofty, and so far removed from 
self, that he never thought of money, except so far as it 
was necessary to their accomplishment. 

But, although he has not, like Ca?sar, left any landed 
estates, villas, orchards, or vineyards to his friends 



and the public, he has bequeathed them, what is far more 
precious and induring, a name without reproach, a bright 
example, and imperishable works. 

Dr. Drake received, at various periods of his life, tes- 
timonials of the high appreciation of his professional 
character from different societies, both foreign and domes- 
tic. The names, with the date of their diplomas, of a few 
only of these are subjoined. 

1. The Philadelphia Medical Society, March 1st, 1806. 

2. The American Antiquarian Society, April 15th, 1818. 

3. The American Philosophical Society at Philadelphia, 
April 17th, 1818. 4. The Wernerian Natural History 
Society of Edinburgh, Feb. 11th, 1826. 5. The Linnsen 
Society of Philadelphia. 6. The Medical Society of Mas- 
sachusetts, July 10th, 1836. 7. The American Ethno- 
logical Society, Nov., 1842. 8. The Svveedish National 
Medical Society at Stockholm, Dec. 19th, 1848. 

Only a fortnight before he died, he was elected an hon- 
orary member of the Kentucky State Medical Society at 
its meeting in this city. Dr. Bartlett, Profesorof Materia 
Medicain the College of Physicians and Surgeons of New 
York, and Dr. Deaderick, of Athens, Tennessee, whose 
name is so honorably associated with the operation of 
excision of the lower jaw, were elected at the same time. 

But the diploma which, of all others, he valued and 
appreciated most highly was the one already alluded 
to as having been given him by Dr. Goforth, at the close 
of his private pupilage. He was more proud of it, and 
felt more pleasure in recurring to it, than of any testimo- 
nial that could have been bestowed upon him by the Royal 
College of Surgeons of London, or the Royal Academy 
of Medicine of Paris. It was, as it were, his first pro- 
fessional love ; he had worked hard for it, and, no doubt, 
felt that he was worthy of it, conscious as he was of his de- 
ficiencies. This document, written on form paper, in a bold 
and beautiful hand, ran in this wise : 






89 



" Cincinnati, State of Ohio, August 1st, 1805. 

I do certify 

that 

Mr. Daniel Drake 

has pursued, under my direction, 

for four years, 

the study of Physic, Surgery, and Midwifery. 

From his good abilities 

and 

Marked attention to the prosecution 

of his Studies, 

1 am fully convinced that he is well-qualified 

to practise in these branches. 

William Goforth, Jr., 

Surgeon-General 
1st Divis. Ohio Militia. " 

How little he valued his other diplomas, is shown by the 
fact that he never referred to them in any of his publica- 
tions. In his work on the diseases of the Interior Valley 
of North America his name appears without any titles, 
merely as Daniel Drake, M. D. I do not know that he was 
proud of this simplicity; probably he might have consider- 
ed himself more honored by the breach than the observance. 

Such, my associates, was the character of the physician, 
the teacher, and the medical philosopher, who, in the 
mellow twilight of evening, was struck from our ranks ; 
and such, my fellow-citizens, was the character of the 
man, who, in the full vigor of his intellect, and in the hour 
of his usefulness, was struck from your midst. Truly, a 
great and good man has fallen. A great and noble intel- 
lect is extinguished. A bright and burning light has dis- 
appeared. But, although our friend is dead, yet does he 
live. He survives in his works and his example. His 
body has gone to the tomb, to moulder into dust, and 
return, atom by atom, to the earth from whence it was 
taken ; his soul, purified and redeemed, has been restored 
to its God and its Creator ; but all that was lofty, and 
refined, and intellectual in his character will remain with 
12 



90 



us and with our posterity after us ; gaining strength, and 
beauty, and freshness as it descends the stream of time. 
The good seed which he scattered upon the earth will 
continue to germinate and fructify as long as there shall 
be any soil for its reception, and the quickning of its living 
principle. 

Shall it be said that such a man was born without an 
object ; or that it does not matter whether he wrote such 
a work, or performed such a deed? The world, forgetful 
of its loss, and unconscious of his greatness, may move on 
in its unconcern as when he was in its midst ; but that 
world would not have been complete without him. His 
presence was necessary to the age and generation in which 
he lived. Every human being, however humble or insig- 
nificant, is created for some given or specific purpose, 
although our feeble comprehension may not enable us to 
determine what that purpose is. Look at yonder 
star in the firmament. It is the smallest of its myriads 
of sisters, so small, indeed, as to be haidly visible to the 
unassisted eye, a mere speck, as it were, in the great 
celestial diadem, and yet, if removed from its orbit, or the 
place allotted to it, the whole machinery of the planetary 
system would instantly be thrown into a state of disorder 
and confusion. Will any one affirm that it was of no use, 
or that there was no design in its creation? The smallest 
pebble upon the sea shore, nay, the minutest grain of 
sand of which the imagination can conceive, is just as 
necessary to complete, and, for aught we know to the 
contrary, to uphold, the Universe as the mighty rock of 
Gibraltar, which rears its dark and frowning head aloft 
into the heavens from its broad ocean bed in the Atlantic. 
Truth is eternal, and immutable ; the works of the human 
mind never die ; they form a part of the Universe, and 
are indispensable to the fulfilment of God's designs. 

Dr. Drake lived in one of the most memorable epochs 
of the development of the human mind. The first half of 
the present century does not yield, in fame and usefulness, 



91 



in great discoveries and improvements, to any period of 
time that has preceded it. His own profession has never 
advanced with a more steady and truly progressive pace. 
The lamp of medical science has never hurned with a 
brighter and steadier flame. Discovery has followed dis- 
covery, and improvement improvement until the mind 
is absolutely bewildered by the scene before us. 

Literature, science, and the arts, poetry, and phil- 
osophy, have never been more widely, or more suc- 
cessfully, cultivated. The blessings of knowledge, the 
arts of peace, and of civil and religious liberty have never 
been more extensively diffused among the nations of the 
earth. His own country has risen from an humble and 
feeble republic to the most exalted position that any 
government or people can occupy. The West, the more 
immediate theatre of his own fame and usefulness, has 
been transformed from a wilderness, the abode of the red 
man and the panther, into a smiling and luxuriant garden, 
covered with millions of inhabitants, and studded every 
where'with cities, and towns, and villages, teeming with the 
arts, and luxuries, and refinements of civilized life. Its 
great waters, which, at the commencement of the present 
century, knew no vessels, save the Indian's canoe, and the 
adventurer's flat-boat, are now traversed by thousands of 
noble steamers, freighted with the rich and varied produce 
of our soil, and conveying the traveler in speed and safety 
to his destination. 

The facilities of intercourse have been vastly increased. 
Fifty years ago a journey from Cincinnati to Philadelphia 
occupied the traveler between three and four weeks ; 
now it can be performed in as many days. In 1800, there 
was not a single rail-road in the world ; now there are 
thirteen thousand miles in the United States alone. Haifa 
century ago it took nearly a month to convey intelligence 
from Cincinnati to New Orleans, or from the West to the 
Atlantic cities ; now it requires hardly a few minutes. 
Then the lightning had been tamed ; but it had not yet 



92 



been taught to speak. Fifty years ago printing was 
performed entirely by hand ; now it is performed by steam, 
a single press being capable of throwing off twenty thou- 
sand newspapers an hour. When Dr. Drake entered the 
profession there was not a single medical school in the 
valley of the Mississippi ; now there are nearly twenty. 
Then there were few graduates of medicine ; now they are 
scattered over every portion of the country. He found 
his profession weak and obscure, and he left it in strength 
and beauty, having advanced it by his own labors, and 
adorned it by his own character. 

But time admonishes me to bring this sketch to a close. 
Much more has already been said than the occasion re- 
quires, though much might be added that might be of 
interest and benefit to us all. In reviewing my labors I 
am conscious that they have fallen far short of what they 
ought to be, or of what they might have been in more 
able hands. From my intimate relations, personal and 
official, with"the deceased, for a period of nearly twenty 
years, my colleagues, doubtless, concluded that the task 
of preparing a memorial of his life belonged more appro- 
priately to me than to any one else. I can only say that 
I have endeavored to discharge the sacred trust, which 
their partiality has confided to me, to the best of my humble 
ability. It has been to me, throughout, a labor of love, 
not unmingled with the deepest sadness at the loss of him 
whose life and services we have this evening met to com- 
memorate. I have endeavored to present a true picture 
of his character, and to speak of him as he was, and as he 
exhibited himself to us in his "daily walk and conversa- 
tion." I have not indulged in panegyric, or fulsome 
eulogy. It has not been my object to weave a chaplet 
for his brow, an office of which he does not stand in need ; 
but to drop upon his grave, still fresh with the sod that 
covers it, a sprig of gnaphalium, as an emblem alike 
of our affection, and of his immortality upon earth. 



[ JP \ W68j 






DISCOIJ 11 S E 



ON THE 



LIFE, CHARACTER, AND SERVICES 



OP 



DANIEL DRAKE, M. D 

DELIVERED, BY REQUEST. 

BEFORE THE FACULTY AND MEDICAL STUDENTS OF THE 
UNIVERSITY OF LOUISVILLE, JANUARY 27, ISC3. 

BY S. D. GROSS, M. D. 



LOUISVILLE: 

PRINTED AT THE OFFICE OF THE LOUISVILLE JOURNAL. 

1853, 



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